Sympathy for the Devil
by KSlycke
Summary: For willwrite4fics. A semi challenge featuring Low Light in ten chapters. Each chapter will be the title of a Rolling Stones song. The usual disclaimer: I don't own, not making a profit
1. Chapter 1

For willwrite4fics. A semi challenge featuring Low Light in ten chapters. Each chapter will have the title of a Rolling Stones song.

The usual disclaimer: I don't own, not making a profit.

Chapter One

Sympathy for the Devil

0530

It wasn't early but it wasn't late, either. In reality he had lost all track of time during his nightly rounds. It was a force of habit when he was on away missions. Otherwise time would become the enemy and sleep and exhaustion would take hold. To him the only indication of time passed was the quickening of activity around The Pit. The early risers, the new recruits being woken up at dark thirty with sleep still in their eyes and of course his roommate the drill sergeant from Hell, Beachhead, in their barely awake faces giving them all of his encouraging words. At a decibel level.

Low Light crouched and watched it all unfold on the roof of The Pit. That was where he was normally found. It didn't bother him. The roof was the quietest place to be. No one interfered and no one came up here. Unless it was the usual suspects looking for some privacy. And even then they all knew Low Light's schedule by now and avoided the roof when he was on duty there. Still in effect it was his own private domain. His concrete sniper's nest. He was the eyes in the sky, the God sent down to render justice with a bullet from afar. To him it was mostly waiting, patience, and a degree of stealth that only a night sniper would know. That was his job and he was the best at what he did.

Low Light sat in the shadows of the roof and waited. In a few more hours he would be relieved of his post but until then he kept his eyes on the perimeter, the barbed wire fence surrounding the Joe compound, and into the desert night surrounding the base. There was a forty percent chance that Cobra would strike in the middle of the night while the rest of The Pit slept and it was up to him to make sure they wouldn't be taken by surprise. Between him, Firewall, Sci Fi and Adams, they were the core of the graveyard shift. Unless one of the senior Joe's were on punishment or switched around for whatever reason, it was them plus a dozen or so greenshirts earning their teeth. It was the greenshirts he worried the most about.

Thankfully tonight was uneventful.

The greenshirt relieving him was another story. At probably twenty years old and still wet behind the ears, the new shirt stuttered and stammered through shift change in front of the night sniper waiting for his command. That didn't bother Low Light either. He had gotten used to people being nervous around him. He even heard some of the rumors about himself that were going around. A lot of it was a bunch of bullshit meant to scare new recruits but to his surprise some of them were true. So when the greenshirt finally struggled through the last of his report, Low Light grunted and walked past him to the doors leading to the stairwell that led to the most private sectors of Joe Headquarters. Rumors or no rumors he just didn't have the tolerance to wait around listening to the newbie point out things that were pretty damn obvious but still required protocol.

By the time he made it back to his room, Beachhead was out doing his usual routine. PT didn't stand for Physical Training in Beachhead's world. It stood for Physical Torture. Even Low Light was subject to the sergeant major's drill every once in a while and he dreaded the time when he would be ordered to go. How the man could get up that early day in and day out without being completely drained by the end of the week was beyond him. He was a night owl through and through.

Low Light stretched and began to disassemble his sniper rifle. If the kid on the roof was any indication he would never trust anyone else to handle his sniper rifles but especially his scopes. The barrel was a being in and of itself being the physical body of his rifle but it was the scopes that demanded most of his attention. Anyone could pull a trigger and hit a target. Most of the Joes were marksman trained and he steadily kept them up to date in the kill house. But a scope was something different. Any sand or dirt or mis calibration could get any number of his teammates killed if he didn't have cover for them. Like fishing, he had scopes for different conditions as well. Some were for short range and some were for long range. Some were used only for night conditions and some for bright conditions. Some were more water proof than others while some used a higher or lower caliber bullet. Knowing which one to use under each condition was part of his training. The scope was the brain of the rifle and he had to keep it in perfect working order.

That was why it was seven AM and Low Light was cleaning his rifle. After tonight he would have to test fire the newest sniper rifle and calibrate the scope. It was all standard operating procedure and being the best night sniper in the Joes he was automatically selected. He wasn't looking forward to it. New equipment meant new glitches and glitches got you killed. Still, he was under orders and orders would be obeyed. It would be noon in five hours but he still had his orders. The brass wanted to know if this new rifle checked out before Uncle Sam would pop out a few grand per rifle on the taxpayer's dime. It was just the usual equipment check as far as he knew but it would keep him awake until at least ten or eleven AM. Then maybe, just maybe, he could get some sleep.

He geared up and checked one more time to reassure himself that his guns were still there and headed towards General Hawk's office. Satisfied, he stood at attention at Hawk's door until the man himself showed up at his office. It was only then that he put his scope back in the pocket of his black military issue BDU's.

"Good morning General Hawk." He saluted.

"Good morning Low Light." The General replied. He opened his office door with his security tab and Low Light followed him in. Once at his desk he opened his drawer and flipped a file open. "At ease. Take some time and read over the specs on this new sniper rifle Washington is considering purchasing. Since you're the best at what you do I'll respect your opinion over some pencil pushing Senator with a military budget to fill."

Low Light nodded and scanned through the specifications quickly. He didn't know how Hawk could tolerate the Washington elite and it was a constant thorn in the General's side. Still everything he needed to know he could skim. The rifle took standard .308 so at least there weren't any specialty or boutique bullets to buy and the reticle of the scope was modified this year to accept low to nonexistent light conditions a lot like the M110 SASS. It was the shortening of the barrel and suppressor that interested Low Light though. It would make carrying his kit easier and lighter and in urban combat conditions it would have more agility for close quarters. The shorter barrel though would mean louder recoil so essentially it was a one shot, one kill sniper rifle because as soon as he pulled the trigger the enemy would have a bead on the direction of shots fired.

He told General Hawk so.

"That's why we're having you evaluate it before they ship ten crates full of worthless rifles to The Pit that will sit around the armory collecting dust." Hawk said. He tapped a finger on the top of his own file and continued. "We need something lightweight and portable for a quick in and quick out but if it's going to compromise any of my men then I would rather stick with the tried and true." He nodded. "Now we just have to wait for Flint and Duke to get here to head to the firing range." At that General Hawk paused and leaned back a bit seeming to assess his sniper. "Thank you for staying awake long enough to get this over with Cooper." He said.

Low Light shrugged slightly. "I wasn't going to sleep anyway." He said. Unlike Adams who could hit the sheets immediately after shift, it was common knowledge that the night specialist was a chronic insomniac suffering from night terrors that were sure to drive him insane one of these years. Although to Low Light he didn't consider it suffering. It was just something he had to live with and got used to. He tried to explain that to Psyche Out on his mandatory evaluations but the resident psychiatrist refused to release him from the monthly sessions. Low Light secretly thought it gave him something to do. But at least now it was only monthly and not weekly. He also had to see him after his missions until Psyche Out was satisfied. That also accounted for some of the rumors. It didn't matter to him about the rumors. So long as he showed up, he still had a job and wouldn't be forced to off-duty based on mental reasons.

"Well it was either today early in the morning after your shift or try to get this done in the middle of the night." General Hawk replied. "And I'm not too keen on being awake at two AM like you are." He said.

"Yeah I guess if you didn't have an ugly mug like mine you wouldn't need your beauty sleep." Low Light said. The General snorted out a laugh to look up just as Duke and Flint walked in, bright eyes and cleaned up, coffees in hand.

"Good morning General Hawk." They both saluted. Flint at least nodded towards Low Light but Duke was too busy reviewing the file in hand to acknowledge him.

"Good morning Low Light." Flint said. "I didn't know if you wanted coffee or not."

"No, I'm good. I don't need my hands shaking when I squeeze the trigger anyway." Low Light replied. "If I had more caffeine I'd bleed it."

"In that case gentlemen" General Hawk said "What is your evaluation of the new sniper rifle?" He asked. He directed the question to Flint and Duke.

They both looked at Low Light but it was Flint that answered. "It appears to be standard with a few tweaks that make it slightly different from the ones we already use but I'd have to take Low Light's word for it as to how it performs in the field." He said.

Duke nodded. "I'd have to agree with Flint. Neither one of us is sniper qualified and there's no one better to check it out. Ask the sniper." He said. He stuck his chin up to Low Light. "He would know."

"Alright then let's get this over with so McBride here can tell us what he thinks and get some sleep." General Hawk said.

He stood up from behind his desk and tapped the file on his thigh heading out of the office towards the armory. They were greeted at the door by one large black and overly excited-to-see-them obnoxious dog. That meant it was Law's turn in the armory and the dog was Order. He tail thumped on the floor and each of them had to take turns greeting him before the large dog would let them pass. Order was normally used to being outdoors doing perimeter checks and working so being cooped up inside of the armory with no attention from anyone except Law was something new to him. His handler was just inside of the long rows of tagged and bagged weapons that had to be cleaned, filed, and handed out individually with the date, time, and who they were checked out to. One four by eight shelf was simply marked 'Low Light'.

Law turned around giving General Hawk a salute and a large grin. Over his head he held up a pristine olive drab camouflaged sniper rifle.

He saluted. "Good morning General Hawk, Sir. I believe this is what you were looking for." He smiled and turned his head to look at it. "Ahhhh, I just love the smell of new equipment. It's like Christmas and my Birthday rolled into one. What do you think Low Light?"

"Newer isn't always better but I'll take a look." He said. If anything Low Light was the eternal skeptic when it came to new equipment.

The first thing that struck him when Law handed it over was the unusual lightness. His normal rifles weighed about six kilos or about fifteen pounds each with some of them going for twenty pounds needing a stable tripod to control the kick back. This one was dramatically lighter at around four kilos or nine to ten pounds. He held it up to the overhead light to take a quick look and checked the chamber. It was unloaded. He held it up to his eye and took a peak. The scope was at ten times magnification three and half optic Leupold that he was used to. That at least was a good sign. There was no newness to get used to or need training on. The only thing better would be Low Light's own patented scopes but those weren't in mass production.

All four men were watching and waiting until Low Light finished. He held it up and handed it over stock first to General Hawk.

"It's light at least. It's probably made up of plastic or PVC maybe." He said. "That or a new polymer the tech guys came up with. That's Sci Fi's department. That might be a problem in the field for durability, Sir." He explained. "You wouldn't want to replace the stock because it can't handle the burn of NATO cartridges for a semi automatic. It would throw off the minute of angle."

Four heads nodded as if he suddenly had three eyeballs on his face trying to keep up with some of the terms a sniper would use. But it was General Hawk that waved them out of the door with Order following obediently behind waiting to go out until Law whistled him over. He automatically heeled to Law looking as dejected as a dog could be being left behind.

Once outside they were stopped by a couple dozen recruits being chased by one yelling sergeant major drill instructor from Hell Beachhead ordering them to "Stop and salute your Goddamn General you pogues!". Low Light couldn't tell if they were terrified or just plain relieved that they had even a short rest break to catch their breath. He didn't even know what a pogue was. But like a unit they all came to a standstill at formation to salute General Hawk as they walked by. For the man himself all he gave was a nod and they were off again like frightened beasts of the Serengeti before Beachhead ordered them to "Move! Move! Move! You had a thirty second break and that's thirty seconds too long!" He gave a stern salute himself before chasing after the troop like a lion before wildebeests. That was typical Beachhead though. He could salute at a five mile an hour pace in full formation while still herding his greenshirts.

There were again a handful of greenshirts at the firing range practicing when they showed up at the firing range. They knew that there was an experimental exercise and each of them wanted to watch what was going on. Rumor spread around the base like wild fire that way. This time they were quickly dismissed by General Hawk as Low Light was setting up. The last thing they would need is some stupid curious kid being shot by a misfiring sniper rifle. Low Light at least knew what to do in dangerous circumstances and it wasn't the first time he was chosen to test out the latest and greatest thing to happen to long range sniper fire.

He gave a nod to Hawk, Flint, and Duke when he set up his initial shot at eight hundred yards. That was the minimum or average of the M110 SASS but this thing promised to be more accurate and powerful at twice that range using the same .308 caliber bullets.

It wasn't difficult to fire with a twenty clip fastened but Low Light still preferred the single shot bolt action rifles he grew up with and was trained to use. It might have been equipped with a new suppressor with different material but the sound wasn't as loud as he was expecting either. He told General Hawk and set up his next shot at a thousand yards. The next shot he set up at fifteen hundred yards to the extreme of the M110 SASS using .308 and the one after that at two thousand yards. With each consecutive shot the accuracy didn't change although Low Light had to adjust the scope and degrees for the new distance each time. This would be when a spotter would be a good idea.

Finally, at four thousand yards or two and change miles, the accuracy started to decrease even if the barrel didn't show any outward signs of wear and tear.

Low Light stood up and looked at the other three men for a while until he could gather his thoughts. "For a stretch with a spotter I could probably push it to about three miles give or take the MOA and aim for vital shots and adjust the degrees to compensate but it's pretty accurate at two and a quarter miles being a semi automatic. I could make a good three to five kill shots at that range within forty-five to sixty seconds given into consideration a running target and conditions of the environment as long as they don't take cover. Those are always variables. That would mean one shot, one kill, every fifteen seconds or so."

General Hawk nodded and appeared to be lost in thought thinking about what he was told. They all waited and looked to him until Duke spoke up.

"That would be good, right?" He asked

Low Light nodded slowly. "Yeah. Pretty damn good for something this light weight using less than fifty cal." He said. "There's just one problem."

The other men paused to listen.

"Which is?" General Hawk asked.

Low Light stopped and spoke slowly. "It's a M.A.R.S. weapon."

End Chapter One

Sympathy for the Devil


	2. Chapter 2

For willwrite4fics. A semi challenge featuring Low Light in ten chapters. Each chapter will be the title of a Rolling Stones song.

The usual disclaimer: I don't own, not making a profit.

Chapter Two

Between a Rock and a Hard place

0950

"Goddammit! Washington God-Damn politics! Do you want to explain to me _how _in the _Hell_ did Destro and M.A.R.S. win a bid for a military contract?" General Hawk roared. He slapped his hat on his thigh. Washington politics aggravated him. Hawk knew and the ones in high places knew it was the work of the Jugglers. It was as if they wanted to see him fail. The Jugglers were an elite group of Generals and Admirals made up of all sections of the Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marines. No one except their inner circle knew who they were. They were the chess players in the dangerous game of War. He kept that information away from the Joe's. It was to their benefit not to know. He held up his arms in exasperation. "They're terrorists for crying out loud!"

He wasn't expecting an answer. Even if the other three men agreed they didn't interrupt. Instead they watched passively at the General's sudden outburst. Even a General had the right to vent every now and then. It happened when he was frustrated with Washington's policies. No one envied that part of his post. General Hawk had to ride a fine line with them to get what he needed for his men. With support for the troop's sky high and the military budget nearly limitless, there was still approval that was needed. Sometimes it could take years to get what he wanted. For the new M.A.R.S. sniper rifle system to be approved so quickly, it must have been on the fast track. Hawk ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh of frustration.

The test fire of the new sniper rifle took less time than the four of them expected. It was now roughly ten AM. That would mean that Low Light had been awake for close to twenty hours. His body protested to demand sleep but his brain was still awake. And it would stay awake until he was dismissed or dropped. If he went to bed he knew he would be awake for at least an hour before nodding off. He never did sleep quickly like other people. Then if he did get some sleep there was no telling if the monsters of his night terrors would come out to play. It was hit or miss. On good days they stayed away but sometimes they would come in clusters every time he closed his eyes. He still didn't know why.

Low Light, Flint, and Duke waited until General Hawk finished.

When he did, Duke spoke up. "How do you know it's a M.A.R.S. rifle, Low Light?" He asked. It sounded like a 'now everyone calm down until we get the facts' tone of voice. It irritated Low Light to be second guessed. But even if it did, he didn't show it.

"Because" He explained "I recognized the manufacturing. Each weapons manufacturer uses a specific factory to make each rife. That's how weapons are mass produced to accept standardized bullet such as a 9 millimeter or .308 rounds like a full metal jacket. Otherwise you would need specialty bullets. The factory has to be standard issue to make this rifle and I recognized it." He said.

"You know this? For sure Low Light?" General Hawk asked. His face and body paused waiting on the answer. It would depend on too many levels Low Light's answer and he knew it. Low Light was making a grave mistake if he was wrong.

Low Light nodded. "I would bet my pay grade on it Sir, but that's Clutch's area of expertise. I'm convinced that it's a M.A.R.S. sniping rifle. It comes from the same factory as all of the M.A.R.S. sniping rifles."

"Yes, but how do you know?" Duke asked. The First Sergeant was persistent.

Low Light was silent for a long while. He had to keep his temper. That was a trait of a lot of the GI Joe seniors. They were all experts in their fields. Low Light was an expert in his. They weren't used to having their findings doubted. Being questioned was annoying.

"I've had to use them in Serra Gordo." He shook his head. "That was a cluster fuck. Sorry Sir." He turned to General Hawk. "I meant it was not a good mission." Swearing was a military man's curse.

The General waved it off.

Low Light continued. "I was in Sierra Gordo for six months. I was with Ripcord and Recondo. This was after El Jefe and his death squads. The country was still unstable. The S.G.L.F. held the capital Rio Lindo but in the back country there was chaos. The Tucaro Indians were being slaughtered. We were sent down to rescue some bleeding heart ambassador that was captured by Cobra."

The General nodded. "I remember that mission. The U.S. backed the Sierra Gordo Army and the communists backed the Sierra Gordo Liberation Front. In the middle were the Tucaro's. And yes, it was a cluster fuck." He said.

Low Light made a half grin. "We were in the back country most of the time. Sierra Gordo is in South America. It looked like mountains and jungles. It was the high jungle. Most of the people used the rivers. It was a good place to hide." He said. "M.A.R.S. had a factory there. I made use of permanently borrowing a few of their sniping rifles and .308's. The standard issue SR-25 didn't hold up to rain."

It wasn't stealing if it was permanently borrowed. "The compound had anti aircraft and gun turrets. It was surrounded by concertina wire and guard towers. The only way to check was to snipe. That was what I did." He said. "By the time we got the ambassador out I'd gotten used to their sniping rifles. That was when I was hit by a mortar."

He looked at Duke. "I know a M.A.R.S. sniping rifle when I see one."

Duke stiffened but held his jaw. "That's a very good explanation. Thank you Low Light." He said.

General Hawk spoke up. There was tension growing between his First Sergeant and his Night Sniper. He defused it. "It was Fubar from word one but everyone made it out alive and the mission was a success. That's how the GI Joe team operates. Yo Joe." He put the emphasis on team and looked directly at both Duke and Low Light.

"Yo Joe." They echoed.

That was when Flint spoke up. "Wait. Didn't we use Knight Armament of Florida before, Hawk?" He asked.

The General made a grunt sound. "Yes but it depends on which company wins the military budget. It's damn lucrative to get a military contract. There's stiff competition for it and it takes a lot of political maneuvering and greasing of palms, thousand dollar martini lunches and rubbing of shoulders. But it essentially goes to the lowest bidder. A lot of companies bid low just to get their foot in the door." He said. "It looks like Knight lost out this year."

"But how could have Destro have won it? Cobra is listed and recognized in the international community as a terrorist organization." Duke pointed out. "That's like buying flowers from the Taliban."

The flowers were poppies critical for heroin. In Afghanistan that was the primary means of their GDP.

"Cobra is, but you remember that Destro and M.A.R.S. are not. Even my wife went back years in Intel trying to find a connection between M.A.R.S. and Cobra but it just isn't there. You know Jaye, if there was a connection she would have found it. Destro is just that good at covering his tracks." Flint said.

"I have to agree with Flint." General Hawk said. "But until we do find evidence that M.A.R.S. and this newest sniping rifle system is associated with Cobra, the most I can do is stall. Hell, I can stall for years if I have to but we are NOT going to use a Cobra terrorists' weapon. And we are NOT going to have the taxpayers' supporting a terrorist organization. Those bastards won't see one red cent if I have my way." He said.

Once General Hawk made a threat a promise, there was nothing you could do to stop him. That was why he was in charge of GI Joe. A tenacious team needed a tenacious General. That was why he was called the Tomahawk.

He turned to Low Light. "I hope you're right on this one Low Light. I have full faith in you."

"Yes Sir." Low Light said.

At least he had General Hawk in his corner. The man was known for backing up his soldiers. And the Joe's respected him for that. Once respect was earned in the Joe's it was rarely given up. There wasn't a man or woman on the team that wouldn't take a bullet for him. They would fight to the end if General Hawk ordered them to.

"The sniping rifle uses NATO .308 Win. Those are made by Federal Gold Medal Match in Anoka Minnesota. That at least in made in the U.S. of A." Low Light said. Duke looked at him and opened his mouth. "I took a tour of the factory one year." He said. He was getting tired and didn't feel like being questioned.

It was time for General Hawk to step in again. He tilted his chin. "Thank you Low Light. Your information has been valuable. In the mean time, you are dismissed. Go get some rack time. That's an order." He said.

"Thank you Sir." Low Light said. He saluted all three men before turning back towards the armory.

Order ran up to greet him as soon as he opened the door. Low Light guessed that the dog was the official 'greeter-of-people' for Law while being stuck in the armory. He disengaged the scope before handing over the stock to Law.

"I can always use an extra scope in the field." He explained. He wasn't big on smiling so it came out like a half grin with his lips closed on the lower part of his face.

"Yeah, well, technically, I can't let you have it since its part of the system but I guess I have a case of temporary blindness." Law said. "Damndest thing."

His smile was wide showing all of his teeth. Even Order looked like he was smiling with his tongue hanging out. Like father, like son.

Low Light left and headed back to his room.

Now that he was ordered back to it, all of the twenty hours came down on him at once. The fatigue hit him so hard that it was a struggle to get back to his quarters. His body slowed down, his brain slowed down, his eyes burned and his mouth felt like he hadn't brushed his teeth in months. Insomnia was a brutal bitch. He never knew when it would happen. At times he was awake for hours. Then he was followed by hypersomnia. That was the state when not even a bomb blast could wake him up. The brain and the body were an organic organism. It required sleep to regenerate itself. The common knowledge of insomnia was that the body stayed awake for days. That wasn't true. Insomnia was a vicious cycle. Low Light knew that it would push him to the point of breaking before he would be allowed sleep by sheer fact that the body and mind needed it. No one could stay awake for any length of time without suffering from the effects. It was either sleep or die.

In that time he was put on every pill known to man. Ambien made him groggy even when he was awake. Amitriptyline gave him a flat affect. It was the lack of emotion or feeling at his surroundings that made him give it up. That was no way for a Joe to be.

Trazadone made him exceptionally tired with near life-like dreams. On it, he could never tell if he was awake or still asleep. When the monsters came he couldn't wake up. That was when Beachhead would find him on the floor or in the bathtub, curled up in a closet and once somehow beneath the bed.

That was when he stopped taking it. He didn't know what he would do in that fugue state but Beachhead would never tell. It was a disturbed state of consciousness when he was affected and performed acts in full awareness but upon recovery cannot recollect the acts performed. That was what scared him the most.

At this time of the morning the hallways were empty. There was no one else around. That was good. He didn't feel like talking. The only thing he wanted was a good sound sleep. He cringed and hoped that the monsters would leave him alone today. That would be a bonus.

Before he got back to his room he saw Psyche Out at his door getting ready to tape a note to the outside. He made an inward 'fuck' and stopped. He felt like turning around and hoped the psychiatrist didn't see him. But, it was orders and mandatory. Low Lighted gritted his teeth. He'd have to sleep some other time.

In an instant his brain was awake again.

The psychiatrist looked up. He didn't look happy.

"Good morning Low Light. Are you just getting in?" He asked.

"Yeah, I had a test fire this morning." Low Light replied. "What's up?"

He had a feeling what it was and waited for it.

"Did you realize you had an appointment this morning at eight AM or did you forget?" He said. Psyche Out kept his face neutral and his voice at a calm level. It was unproductive to get into arguments with his patients. He knew the majority of the Joe's would rather be stabbed in the eye or die by a thousand paper cuts than visit him. Low Light wasn't any different. He was just the most interesting.

"It is the third time in six months that you have been late or didn't bother to show up. You have a fifty percent chance. If you miss again, I will be forced to notify General Hawk." He handed Low Light the note.

That would mean at least weekly sessions and at most a suspension of duty. Low Light couldn't tolerate either one.

"I had a test fire this morning. Sorry." He said. He could be as neutral and calm as Psyche Out even if his 'fuck' turned into 'fuck fuck fuck'. "I was ordered back to the rack by General Hawk." He explained. Even in his ears it sounded like a whine.

"The sessions are mandatory." Psyche Out said. "It is outside of Hawk's control. You are under agreement for a year or until I deem otherwise. You signed the contract. I expect you to be compliant." "I'll see you in fifteen minutes."

It was a statement not a question.

That meant that all Low Light had time for was brushing his teeth. He had to forget sleep for another hour. His body groaned at being awake so long. It was like it knew that it was denied rest once again. He put it through a lot of abuse over the years.

In the mirror all of those years stared back at him. He wore his helmet and shades to cover his grey blood shot eyes but every year he started to look older. That was another reason he wore his glasses. A lot of the Joe's hadn't seen him minus it. More than a few wouldn't know him without them. Stripped of his goggles he felt naked. It was a barrier between him and the outside world. No one could peak into his window of the soul.

He ran a hand over his face. He had to skip shaving. The new beard growth didn't make him look much better. A beard always made him look pudgy. He should start wearing a balaclava like his roommate Beachhead. It would save a lot of time.

He took a swig of mouthwash out of the bottle and left.

It was a long walk to Psyche Out's office. As many times as he had to see him he should probably move closer. Right now he was too tired to move. Everything was a chore when he was sleep deprived except for his job. That was when his brain was alert. And Beachhead was a good roommate. They worked opposites and never saw each other. He suspected that if they did they would get on each other's nerves.

At Psyche Out's office, he stopped and waited before knocking on the door.

It was now or never.

End Chapter Two

Between a Rock and a Hard place


	3. Chapter 3

For willwrite4fics. A semi challenge featuring Low Light in ten chapters. Each chapter will have the title of a Rolling Stones song.

The usual disclaimer: I don't own, not making a profit.

Chapter Three

Stoned, or Mother's Little Helper

1037

Psyche Out was at his desk finishing up paperwork on the computer when Low Light walked in. Unless what he was typing was about Low Light, it was nice to know he wasn't the only head case on the GI Joe team. He stood and waited until the psychiatrist was finished. He was annoyed that he was ordered into his office A.S.A.P. just so he could stand and wait. He'd been awake for twenty hours and he was starting to get cranky.

Psyche Out saved his file and waved him to a chair. "Good morning Cooper. How are you today?" He asked. He took his own seat and flipped open a notebook.

Now that he was off his feet, the last thing Low Light wanted to do was socialize and talk. What he really wanted was a dark cool bedroom and eight in the rack. That would be his ideal. His reality was that he had to sit here for an hour and think of something to say. The sniper was normally a very quiet and private person. It was from spending hours away from people waiting on a target. He never tried but he thought he could sleep here and it would still count for his mandatory sessions. He didn't think Psyche Out would accept that though.

"I'm fucking tired. That's how I am. What about you?" He said. His voice was soft but the words expressed his aggravation. He needed to take off his boots and close his eyes. Instead he was here having his brain poked.

That got Psyche Out's attention. He looked up and paused. "You have every right to be tired, Cooper." He kept his eyes level and his voice low and precise. There was no trace of anger or displeasure. A lot of his patients came to him because of anger issues. He had to stay calm to prevent any escalating. "Your insomnia is the worst case I've reviewed. It doesn't help that it cannot be medically managed." He said. The men and women were fantastic soldiers. It was their personal lives that were a disaster. The order and structure of the military kept them in a state of hyper focus. It was a hard adjustment for when they were off duty. He had more than a few years dealing with the military. By now he was used to it.

He didn't think it was anger with Low Light though. The night sniper was too calm and quiet. It was the trait of being a sniper. The military could not accept a sniper with anger management problems. The last thing they would need was an out of control sniper trained to kill let loose on society. The screening process was too rigorous.

Low Light wasn't like that. He could get lost in a crowd and no one would notice. He had the uncanny ability to blend. On the base he would just appear and disappear. It made people wonder how long he had been in the room. Then they would wonder when he left. Unlike the ninja Snake Eyes that Psyche Out thought truly _could _disappear at will. Low Light was just one of those people that no one paid attention to. He was that quiet.

Low Light was in Psyche Out's office because of an incident with a civilian involving a bar and alcohol. For someone so calm and quiet, Cooper McBride was a mean drunk. Psyche Out suspected it was something he inherited from his father. He didn't make it a secret that his father was an alcoholic. The few times he heard Low Light talk about the man were not good. He would leave him in the dark at an early age for hours to toughen him up even when he knew he was having nightmares. Psyche Out didn't have children but even in his mind a six year old didn't need to be toughened up. Now, Low Light had to conquer his fears every night. Sometimes it would take its toll and that was when he went into town.

Unfortunately that time he was arrested. Law and Mutt had to come and bail him out of jail. It was protocol to run a jacket on all arrests. When the police found out Low Light was military, they released him over to the MP's. Military justice and Civilian Justice were two separate entities.

General Hawk was furious. He could tolerate his soldiers going on a bend when they had leave time. He knew the Joe's worked hard and played even harder. There were the usual suspects but for Low Light it was becoming too much of a habit. Hawk didn't want to watch him turn out like his father. He was ordered to weekly and then monthly evaluations for a year. He was put on suspension and, in order to have someone keep an eye on him, daily PT sessions at five AM with Beachhead. He was exhausted but he made it through. He kept his job and he kept his rank.

Psyche out shifted and continued. "How long have you been awake Cooper?" He asked. In his office he didn't use code names. It was to remind the soldiers that inside his office they weren't soldiers any more. They didn't have to be on duty when he saw them. It got them familiar with him and opened up easier.

"It's going on twenty-one hours, Sir." Low Light replied. He could use some Visine and a shower. "I have to be back at 1830. I'll sleep tomorrow." He shrugged "Maybe."

"Then I'll make this as quick and painless as possible. And while you are in here Cooper, you don't have to call me Sir." Psyche Out said. He was an O-3 commissioned by congress while Low Light was an E-6 that signed up every few years for a specified amount of time. Low Light always re-signed.

He lifted a hand. "It's the horse head. It's a force of habit."

"What?"

"You wear a horse head on your collar. It became force of habit." He said.

"Oh! You mean my rank." Psyche Out said. He forgot he wore them. "It's the symbol of the psychological operations corpse. It's a horse head with lightning bolts. Do you want me to take them off?" He asked. If it would make Cooper more comfortable he would.

"Nah" Low Light said. "It doesn't bother me."

"In that case, how was your shift?" Psyche Out asked.

"It was fine. It was uneventful." He replied. "There wasn't anything to report. Any night without incident is a good night. I'm taking Firewall out on Friday."

Psyche Out kept his expression neutral. It wasn't the oddest thing he had heard and the base was boring with a lot of down time. People got to know each other. "Congratulations. I suppose if it works for your roommate and Cover Girl then it could work for you. It is a bit of a May-December issue, however. Firewall is still young." He said it more like a suggestion and not like a warning.

"Huh? I'm not taking Firewall on a date. I'd feel like a pervert or a child molester. I'm taking her out on rounds on Friday. General Hawk wants her outside for a bit. She spends too much time on the computer. But I wouldn't say I'm a December. I'm more like a late August to early September." He snorted.

"Ah, I see." Psyche Out replied. He was more than a little relieved. Low Light didn't have the best reputation with girlfriends. If he had one he never said. And Firewall was still young. He didn't think the young woman could tolerate Low Light's moods. Then again there was the incident he had to think about. Cooper could get violent when he was asleep and in the throes of a full blown night terror. He wouldn't make the best bed partner.

"I don't think I've asked you. Do you have a girlfriend?" He asked.

"Oh sure. There's Jill and a couple women I see downtown." Low Light said. "It works out for me."

"Who's Jill?"

Low Light held up his left hand. He was a southpaw "Jill." His thumb and index finger made the letter J and his middle finger, ring finger, and pinkie spelled the letter L. It was along the lines of Rosy Palm and her five sisters or Handthony if he was a woman. The way he said it was matter-of-fact. It was as if he was telling the psychiatrist what he had for lunch.

Psyche Out nodded. That was typical for Low Light. He never knew what the man would say but each time it kept his interest. It was probably because he was so soft spoken. People were not used to hearing him speak. He took some time to gather his thoughts. "I suppose that would be healthy." He said. "And what about the women downtown?" He asked.

"They work at night between Nebraska Avenue and the highway." He said. It was like any military town. There was a notorious section known for prostitutes that the men and truckers could pick up at any hour of the day or night. Near the Joe base, Nebraska and the highway were the most well known. The men simply called it "Nebraska".

"I know I don't have to tell you this Cooper but make sure you wear a condom." He said.

"It's mostly blow but when I do ask for extra attention I do." Low Light said. "The pipes are clean Psyche." This time he didn't call him Sir.

"I think that is enough for this morning. I'll re-schedule you in another month at eight AM as usual. Don't forget this time." Psyche Out said. He scheduled Low Light early in the morning after his shift was over so the man could sleep. "I know you're not interested but I am going to prescribe you a new sleeping pill. It will only be one dose. It's called Sonata. The studies indicate that it is non habit forming and has a large success rate. Unlike the other sleeping pills it works quickly in the body. That means you can try to fall asleep on your own. Then, if you're still staring at the clock at two AM you can take it without feeling drowsy in the morning."

"That would mean two PM on my schedule." Low Light said.

"Yes but I want you to take it at a time when you can be monitored." Psyche Out answered. "Beachhead is normally off duty at six PM. He can watch you. If you have any effects, let me know as soon as possible and we'll stop it."

"The next best thing in sleeping pills. I guess I don't have any choice in this?" Low Light asked.

"I can order you to take it but I don't think that will be necessary. The charting is a bitch and then it would go on your record." He shook his head. "When do you want me to order it?"

Low Light had to think for a while. His days blurred at times when he couldn't remember the day of the week. That was part of being a shift worker. "I'm off this weekend so Saturday or Sunday I can take it." He said. "I don't know if Beachhead has a hot date or not though."

"I can order it today and you can let me know, Cooper. For now this is enough and I will write in your record. I think you should get some sleep. You have to be awake in six hours if you go to sleep now." He replied. "In the mean time you are dismissed."

Low Light stood up and stretched. Those were the happiest words he had heard in a long time. He was barely functional and dead on his feet by the time he reached his room. He didn't remember making the long walk from Psyche Out's office to his billet. He didn't bother with the three S's which meant shower, shit and shave. Instead he stripped down to boxers and plopped on the bed.

Insomnia was a cruel mistress. It toyed with him daily. At once he was tired and his body craved sleep but his dark shadow didn't allow it. He closed his eyes repeating a mantra that he used before bed. "It's in your mind. It's in your mind. It's in your mind." He repeated it excessively until he finally found sleep. It was a ritual with him by now but he never knew if it worked.

He didn't know if he dreamed or not. When the alarm woke him up he was sideways in his bed as if he was trying to crawl into a hole between his room and the next one over. His head was bent at an odd angle at the wall while his hands clutched a pillow tight to his body.

He blinked and turned over to turn off the alarm and rubbed at his neck. Slowly he got out of bed. It was 1630. He had an hour to shower and shave and gear up for his shift. He didn't want to miss breakfast. Sometimes Roadblock would save him some scrambled eggs and biscuits with sausage gravy but a lot of times the cooks forgot about the night shift workers. They were forced to eat hand to mouth with whatever was available. It didn't matter the time of day or night but at all times there was coffee. It was a staple. Low Light looked forward to it.

When he arrived at the cafeteria most of the Joe's were finished. It was the stragglers that were still there. He recognized Beachhead in the corner talking to Cover Girl and raised a hand. The drill sergeant raised his own hand in greeting but that was about it.

The best part of his shift was the first cup of coffee to wake him up. Low Light was impatient and didn't like to wait for his coffee to cool. He added ice cubes and pressed the button for bold.

Today it was a cook he didn't recognize. That meant his breakfast consisted of beef stew over noodles, green beans, and mashed potatoes with coffee. He took a Little Debbie snack cake for later for his second, third, or fourth cup of coffee in the middle of the night. He took his tray and sat down next to Beachhead and Cover Girl. They were going back and forth like they usually did. Low Light supposed that they liked it that way. He ignored it and opened a left over newspaper sitting on the table.

"Hi Low Light." Cover Girl aka Courtney Krieger said. As the motor pool's resident grease monkey she was also a former model. Low Light couldn't deny that the woman was drop dead gorgeous but she belonged to Beachhead now.

He grunted. It was none of his business and he continued to read.

"Did you sleep?" Beachhead asked. He was trying to make conversation even if it was a losing battle.

"Yeah, I slept for about five or six hours. It was enough." Low Light said. He was halfway through his first cup of coffee and a side of green beans. Anyone that knew him knew enough that they didn't talk to him until his second or third cup of coffee. "What are you doing Saturday?"

"Who? Me?" Beachhead asked. "I'm not doing a damn thing." He said. He was surprised by the question. Low Light wasn't the type that asked to hang out with anyone.

Low Light looked up from his paper. "Psyche Out wants to experiment a new drug on me Saturday or Sunday he thinks will work. Are you up for babysitting?" He asked.

Beachhead thought about it and made circles with his finger on a left over ring of water. "He's still trying to knock you out, huh?" He replied. The last five experiments didn't work and Beachhead wondered why the psychiatrist bothered at this point. "I suppose I could check in on you now and again but I have shit to do." He said. He knew how violent Low Light could be in a night terror when he couldn't wake up.

Low Light answered. "It's the usual experiment with a new sleeping pill Psyche Out thinks will help." He said.

Then Firewall came up to him. "I am reporting for duty, Sir." She said. She had her own cup of coffee in hand but no breakfast.

Low Light blinked back at her. "Is today Friday?" He asked to no one in particular.

"All day." Beachhead said.

He forgot he was supposed to show the computer expert around the base. He was hung up on thinking the day was Thursday. He cussed to himself again. He could not catch a break this week it seemed.

"Don't call me Sir. I work for a living." Low Light grunted. "Are you up to date and armed?" He asked. He looked her over to look for her gear.

The computer expert nodded. She looked nervous even if it had been ten months since she had been on night shift. It was the part and partial of being young and new. She listened to too many rumors. Her job consisted of routine checks every half hour and she rarely made contact with the night sniper. She was like any newbie that listened to rumors about him.

"I would make myself at ease, Firewall. The night shift is an entity of itself. The night shift is more casual." He didn't stop what he was doing and instead opened his phone to check his emails. The first one was from General Hawk demanding a new mission starting next month. He replied with a simple "Will do." The other one was from Psyche Out giving him information about the new sleeping pill. The rest of the emails were general bullshit about meetings he never attended or a new in-service he was required to attend. He deleted those.

He stood up and emptied his tray. Now that he was on his second cup of coffee he almost felt human.

"Let's go Firewall. There's no time like the present." He said.

End Chapter Three

Stoned


	4. Chapter 4

For willwrite4fics. A semi challenge featuring Low Light in ten chapters. Each chapter will have the title of a Rolling Stones song.

The usual disclaimer: I don't own, not making a profit.

Chapter Four

Undercover of the Night

1755

It was almost six PM and the sun was setting over the desert in a display of reds, yellows, and orange. It was the kind of sunset that people photographed. For Low Light, he had the honor of watching it every night. His shift didn't start until 1900 but it would take good thirty or forty minutes in the armory checking his gear. Tonight it was Shipwreck.

Shipwreck was a Navy SEAL known to talk too much and flirt with anything with breasts. Low Light almost dreaded introducing Firewall to him. The kid's age was unimportant to him and Low Light thought that Shipwreck just liked to flirt. He was mostly harmless with nothing becoming of it but he was a sailor to the molecular level. He stopped inside the door on purpose blocking Firewall's way. It wasn't time for flirting. It was time for equipment checks.

Shipwreck looked up from his phone. Low Light could hear the music from fruit ninja playing. It was that incessant banjo that grated on his nerves. "Hey it's Mr. Personality himself!" Shipwreck smiled. "No, wait, slow down, I can't keep up with all of your talking. Can you just be quiet for a minute while I check you out?" He stood up still talking. He spread his hands on the counter top like a bartender. "What'll it be Death-from-Afar night sniper and specialist." He tipped his head.

That's when he noticed Firewall behind him. At a shade under five feet five inches tall she was shadowed by Low Light's six foot two frame. Firewall was not only short but she was also petite with the bones of a bird.

"Well hello beautiful. I don't think I've met you. What's a baby doll like you doing in a dump like this? You sure are pretty. I bet you would like a good 9 millimeter or 22. You can let chatty Henry lug around his hand cannons. A girl like you needs a man to carry heavy stuff. It's what we're made for." He smiled wide and gave her a wink.

The new computer specialist looked over at Low Light as if to say "Is this guy for real" and waited. She was too afraid to say anything to the two senior Joe's. She would probably sound like an idiot. If the military taught her anything it was to keep her mouth shut. She was relieved when Low Light actually said something. His voice was low and gravelly but still made his point.

He introduced her. "She will be following my shifts for a month. Give her a standard issue."

Firewall was designated to the tech department and not a weapons expert. She still had to pass her qualifications but weapons were not her area of expertise. A standard issue M24 system would suit her. It was a bolt action single shot rifle with accuracy of two hundred to four hundred yards. She didn't have to learn how to be a night sniper. She just had to do her job.

Shipwreck grinned and went behind the long rows of rifles. He was still talking. "I will give you one standard issue M24 pea shooter coming right up. It's one of my favorites. Wow does that take me back in time. What about you Low Light?" He wiped at his right eye as if he was reminiscing and found a bitter sweet memory. "He handed it over to Firewall. "Here my love. This weapon is probably older than you are. Take good care of her." He said.

Firewall stared at it for a while in her hands. The kid didn't even know how to hold a basic rifle let alone this one. Low Light shifted and placed it over her shoulder with the band. She could just wear it like jewelry for the next month for all he cared. She didn't even have to shoot it.

Shipwreck turned back to him. "What about you? What'll it be? I heard we got some sweet new ones in that you've been checking out. You want that one?" He asked.

Low Light snorted. The last thing he wanted was some piece of shit Cobra sniping rifle. He shook his head. "Give me the usual Shipwreck. I don't have time to pick and choose."

Shipwreck handed him what looked like a cloth carrying case in the shape of a rifle. Inside were the M110 and Leupold. Firewall dropped her jaw when she saw it. "You use that?" She asked. The case looked huge.

Low Light unzipped the bag and took the weapon out. "It's what I'm trained to do. It's my job." He said. The barrel he slung over his shoulder and the suppressor he put on his left thigh. The scope went on his right thigh next to his 9 millimeter that he was required to wear. He still needed a gun even if he was a sniper. It wouldn't do any good to have a sniping rifle if he was taken by surprise in close quarters.

Shipwreck interrupted. "Don't let smiley fool you. He's the best damn night sniper in the Joe's if not the World." He opened his arms and looked up. "You'll learn a lot if you pay attention. Sure the guy doesn't talk that much but when he does you'd better pay attention. If you do I guarantee you'll be best friends by morning. Then when you're tired of his yakking, come and see me." The SEAL was trying to pass on his advice on how to survive a month following Low Light.

Polly flew in and perched on Shipwrecks shoulder. She was Shipwreck's pet parrot and the only true love of his life. She busied herself with preening. The sailor didn't pay attention. At close to forty years old by a vets estimate, she would live as long as Shipwreck. The parrot would probably be buried with him.

He sat back down and continued his game of fruit ninja. "Have fun kids! I'll see you in the morning." He said.

Low Light led Firewall to the roof of The Pit taking the stairs up five stories. "Why don't you use the elevator? It would be easier." She said.

At an empty platform leading to the fourth floor, Low Light looked back. He studied her. It would be a long month if she kept asking questions. He breathed deep and answered. "The elevators don't always work. It's a bad habit to get into." He said. He had to remind himself to be patient. Not everyone was born with a gun in their hand and a flashlight.

At the top of the roof he opened the door. The same kid he gave report to was standing at attention with his own rifle set up and ready. Low Light winced. If this morning was any indication then the report would take longer than usual. He stepped up and read his Sniper Tab. He was a private first class E-3. That meant he must have joined the Army as Infantryman 11 series MOS. And MOS was a Military Occupations Code. It was a lot like Low Light did almost twenty years ago. According to his uniform the new sniper was named Dixon. Low Light didn't know if he had a code name or not. The new kid saluted.

Low Light brushed him off.

"Good evening Staff Sergeant!" The kid said.

Low Light lifted his left hand. "Continue Private Dixon." He said. "Report."

The greenshirt stood stock still. "The perimeter has been uneventful, Staff Sergeant. The checks have been made every fifteen minutes as per protocol. This soldier has personally checked the compound at six hour intervals and revealed no activity." He said. "The range of action has been an average of one and three quarter miles. This soldier did not report activity at that range."

That was obvious. If there was activity he would be woken up and put into battle. When he gave report to Adams they gave report in grunts with a "What's going on?" And then a "Nothing" followed by an "OK see you in the morning."

Now he had to deal with a fresh one. "Thank you Private Dixon. You are dismissed from your duty." He saw the kid look briefly at Firewall but as for the woman herself she didn't make any indication. At least the kid was a red blooded American male.

He busied himself setting up his sniper rifle while Dixon disassembled his. He hated to watch greenshirt disrespect a rifle that way. The kid was sloppy and in too much of a hurry to take his time. Still Dixon had earned his sniping qualifications somehow which meant that Low Light would meet him eventually. He had to maintain a degree of civility.

He crouched down in position. "Dixon." He said.

The greenshirt turned. "In the future it's not a good idea to stand up in report. You'll make yourself a target." He said.

The kid widened his eyes and swallowed. "Yes Staff Sergeant. I will remember your advice for upcoming information." He said. In his hurry he pushed the elevator button, then remembered to take the stairs and had to swipe his badge twice until the door opened.

It was now 1915 and Low Light settled in for a long night. His coffee was half empty so just for shits and grins he ordered Firewall to get him a third cup, black and bold. It gave the tech something to do and kept her out of his hair for at least a little while. He didn't feel like training another one.

His com unit beeped as the night shift reported in. Tonight it was Sci Fi, Shipwreck, Dial Tone, Janack, Firewall, and a check up coming from greenshirts he didn't recognize. He pressed his reply. "Low Light reporting in. It is 1915. No activity reported." He said.

"Hey Low Light. Long time no see." Dial Tone answered. It was a sniper joke. To Low Light it was getting old.

"Yeah we thought you switched to days." Sci Fi laughed.

"You will have to train me on the new rifle system. I understand it is manufactured to accept nonexistent light levels. It is good to see you Low Light." That was Janack. He crouched and looked over towards the South end of The Pit. She was crouched equally at his level looking back at him.

The Russian October Guard waved at his scope. Low Light only lifted a hand.

"I've been here." Low Light said. "You just haven't seen me." He grinned.

"Staff Sergeant Do you want cream or sugar?" Firewall asked over the unit.

"Whoo hoo! Way to train the newbie's to step and fetch your coffee Low Light!" Shipwreck said. "Do you think it'll work with Polly?"

Low Light clicked on his reply again. "No, Firewall, just black is fine. And Shipwreck you carry that bird around so much it's a wonder she can fly." He said.

"Awww, you hurt her feelings, Low." Shipwreck said. "Shipwreck out."

"Dial Tone out."

"Sci Fi out."

"I don't know how to turn it off." He heard Firewall say. "Do I speak in it or what? I have your coffee Staff Sergeant. I'm on my way back." She said.

"Press the left button on the side and silence it, Firewall." Dial Tone said.

"Firewall out." She must have figured it out.

"OK boys and girls, commencing radio silence at 1956. Low Light, your check is at every fifteen minutes past the hour. Janack your check in is at every fifteen minutes at twenty past the hours. Greenshirts your check in is at every hour at five past the hour. Does everyone understand their instructions?" Sci Fi asked.

There was a chatter of yes sirs over the com. "Until then commence silence. The coms are not to be used as social media. Good night."

"You break my heart sometimes, Sci Fi. What am I going to do for twelve hours stuck in an armory?" Shipwreck asked. "Shipwreck out."

The com units went dead. To Low Light it was the best part of the night. The peace was a welcome relief. He spent hours in complete silence so it was nothing new to him. Now all he needed was his coffee and he was set for the next two hours.

Firewall came back with his coffee and a can of red bull. She handed it over. "What do we do now Staff Sergeant?" She asked.

Low Light held the coffee in his hand and replied. "Now we check the perimeter every fifteen minutes. That's my job. Twice a shift a full check is done. Ours starts at ten PM." He said. Yes, it was going to be a long night. "You can call me Low Light, Firewall."

"Yes Staff Sergeant Low Light."

"No, just call me Low Light."

"Yes, Low Light." She said. She was as nervous as a virgin on her wedding night. It must have been the red bull. "Umm, where do you want me to sit Low Light?"

"In the corner is fine, Firewall. All you have to do is stay in the shadows. I'll tell you what to do next." The kid was like a five year old asking question.

It was 2015 and he clicked on his com. "This is Low Light checking in. There is no activity." He said.

He took a sip of his coffee and damn near burned his mouth. The coffee was boiling hot. "Fucking shit Firewall did you have to make the coffee lava?" He cussed. His lips burned, his tongue burned, and his throat burned. "Why didn't you put some ice cubes in it?"

"I thought that was how you took it. I made it black and bold like you told me to Staff Serg….um, Low Light."

Low Light shook his head. It was definitely going to be a long night. "You need to just put in three ice cubes, Firewall."

She looked miserable. "Yes Low Light. I will remember that in the future."

At 2030 he checked in and then again at 2045, 2100, and at 2115. It was at 2130 that he turned around to look for Firewall. She had been quiet for an hour.

"Firewall" He said. "Gear up. You're going on perimeter check."

Since the beginning of time newbie's have been the bitch of every ranking officer until they earned their stripes. Firewall was no different. Low Light spent years doing leg work. Now, it was her turn.

"What's perimeter check?"

Low Light stared at her and she became silent. "It's what it means. You check the perimeter and report back. You begin at 2200." He said. The young woman didn't know how to do a perimeter check then she had a long way to go.

"Yes, Low Light." Firewall said.

Low Light normally did the checks himself since it gave him a chance to stretch his legs. Since his checks were at 2200 and 0400, that meant that Janack had the 2400 and 0600 checks. That meant that the compound was secured every two to four hours. He could bead her at two and a quarter miles to see if she was in distress so he didn't worry about it.

At approximately 2145 Low Light dismissed Firewall to her checks. It was since she was new that he sent her off fifteen minutes early. The perimeter checks normally took an hour if you were thorough. Low Light didn't want her to learn to be lazy.

It was fifteen minutes, and then half an hour, and then an hour until Firewall made it back to the roof of The Pit. Low Light watched her the entire time. He glanced over and then glanced again until he looked at her. The young woman looked, _odd_. "Report, Firewall." He said.

Firewall paused and looked back. She was quiet for way too long until she said "The perimeter is secured Low Light."

Low Light didn't believe her for a hot minute. He spent too many years observing people. "So what is it you want to say, Firewall?" He asked.

The tech specialist looked down. "I don't think Beachhead and Cover Girl like me too much, Staff Sergeant." She said it in a whisper. It made Low Light pay extra attention to what she said.

It was then that it dawned on him. "You went into the Motor Pool, didn't you?" He asked.

She nodded.

He sighed and rubbed his jaw. "I'm guessing you didn't make a lot of noise when you checked that one out." He said.

"No Low Light." She whispered again. "I just thought, with the fraternization rules that some things were not allowed." She said.

Low Light was as quiet as he normally was. It was only three to five minutes later that he responded. "You need to forget what you saw Firewall." He said. Beachhead had close to twenty years under his belt and Low Light wasn't going to risk his roommate's career based on the testimony of a greenshirt with less than a year. Beachhead had earned his stripes. He had also earned a romance with Cover Girl.

His look was extremely stern but almost a glare. "If you say one word about what you saw I will personally dump on you like the hand of God if I have to. This goes no further. Do you understand, Firewall?" He said.

She nodded. "Yes Staff Sergeant." Somehow it seemed appropriate to say the formal and not his code name. "What do I do?"

Low Light stood over her. "You make some noise. I start my motorcycle for five minutes before checks. That gives whoever it is time to dress and boot. In your case, play some fucking fruit ninja or candy crush. They'll get the hint." He said.

He pointed at her com. "Now say it."

Her hands shook as she pressed the button on her com unit. It was 2345. "This is Firewall checking in. No activity reported." She said.

Low Light turned his back and went back to his concrete sniper's nest. Firewall sat in the shadows. The moon was rising and the stars were coming out in a clear sky that nature provided. He kept his back turned.

The young woman had a lot to learn.

End Chapter Four

Undercover of the Night


	5. Chapter 5

For willwrite4fics. A semi challenge featuring Low Light in ten chapters. Each chapter will have the title of a Rolling Stones song.

The usual disclaimer: I don't own, not making a profit.

Chapter Five

Let it Bleed

0215

Firewall was sitting in her corner as Low Light checked the perimeter and gave his findings. It was a quiet night but he never wanted to say the "Q" word. That only brought disaster and chaos. In the desert there were only the usual cactus shadows and jack rabbits nibbling on new growth of saw grass. If he concentrated hard enough and felt like it, Low Light could put a round at 3500 yards just by squeezing the trigger. The rabbits were oblivious and continued their nightly buffet.

Firewall sighed and stood up. "This is boring." She said. "Is this what you do all night?" She asked.

Low Light snorted and went back to his perimeter checks. "I don't get paid to play candy crush on my phone. I get paid to pay attention." He said.

He adjusted his scope and stared at Janack. She was staring right back at him.

For the past hour he had to listen to her on her phone. At times he wanted to throw it away. A sniper was focused on his mission and nothing but his mission. He couldn't begin to fathom being distracted and fucking around on a phone in the middle of Sierra Gordo.

Firewall had the decency to look embarrassed. She turned her phone off and tucked it into her pocket. "Sorry." She said.

Low Light grunted back and sat down on the roof of The Pit. It was 0230 and almost time for his fourth cup of coffee. In five more hours he would be relieved by Dixon. He was only a pay grade below him but still the day shift sniper.

Firewall paced on the roof in the shadows behind him until Low Light silenced her. It pissed him off to have someone looking over his shoulder let alone walking around. It made him paranoid. The footsteps and clacking made him think he was being ambushed by behind.

"Settle down Firewall. There's nothing for you to see." He said.

"I don't know how you can stand this. Why did they send me out here with you?" Firewall said. She was young and sat down hard in the corner by the doorway. It was like watching a two year old pout. "Why didn't they put you with Dana? She's the sniper." She said.

Dana Janack was a sniper from the non-existent October Guard. She worked side by side with Low Light.

"Snipers are not put together. Janack holds the South perimeter and I hold the West. If there is an attack General Hawk doesn't want both of his snipers compromised. Does that answer your question?" Low Light said. The woman was starting to get on his nerves with all of her questions. To him they were obvious.

It was now 0300.

Firewall considered her words. Her shift so far had been running between the roof of The Pit to the mess hall getting Low Light his coffee, around the perimeter and into the Motor Pool where she was chased out by Beachhead when she caught him by surprise with Cover Girl. She would never make a sniper. She didn't even want to be a sniper.

"Well this blows." She said.

"What?"

"I said this blows." Firewall repeated. She played around on the hem of her M24. It was too heavy for her and almost took up half of her height and body weight. She didn't like it. "How can you stand it?"

Low Light stopped. In his sites he was focusing on a lone coyote coming too close to the base. Janack saw it too. It became a game between the night sniper and the October Guard.

The coyote could care less.

He had it in his crosshairs when he saw a puff of smoke. The animal dropped. It was as if the animal was walking at one point and at the next he slumped over. That was how quick death came.

Low Light focused on Janack and gave thumbs up. She smiled back at him. No one would know the bullet shot at two miles away bringing death to an unsuspecting victim.

Firewall walked slowly up to him as he was checking his range. "Can I ask you a question Low Light?" She asked. She took a knee and squatted next to the night sniper. She looked nervous. Her knees trembled until she almost fell over and she wouldn't meet his eyes. He had no choice but to listen to her.

He stopped his spotting of the perimeter and looked back at her without saying a word.

She looked down paying extra attention to her M24 as if it was the most beautiful thing in the world. "Is it true that you raped and killed a civilian? People say that's why you're on suspension and have to go to see Psyche Out." She whispered. No one would hear her or read her lips with as low as Firewall said it. If it were true then she would rather hear it for herself.

Low Light stopped. He felt a chill run down his spine all the way to his toes. He supposed that was the newest rumor going around about him. It still didn't stop his head from spinning. His mouth was as dry as the desert they were watching.

He closed his eyes and repeated. "It's in your mind. It's in your mind. It's in your mind." He kept his voice deliberately low and calm and spoke slowly "Is that what the greensshirts are telling you?" He asked.

He looked up to Firewall but she wasn't looking at him. She was looking out at the desert.

He made a sound as his M110 was discarded on the roof. If he didn't control it now then it would never be resolved. That rumor was too dangerous to ignore. He deliberately stood over her in her personal space. She turned in on herself as if she was trying to make herself smaller. If that was the newest rumor then no wonder the kids were afraid of him.

"Be careful what you say about the "R" word Firewall. This isn't an Article 32. And no, I didn't." Low Light said. If convicted an Article 32 could leave to court martial. He had to stop this rumor _**now**_.

Firewall backed up a space. The night sniper even on a good day was menacing and scary. Now with him standing over her she was terrified. The rumors said he was quiet almost to a creepy level. No one knew much about him and it was always the quiet ones that wore a necklace full of ears. All she knew was what she heard. It was common knowledge he was ordered to psychological evaluations every month. She wanted to know why. It was her stupid curiosity and big mouth that got in the way. She should have just kept her mouth shut.

She looked away. Her laugh was nervous as she backed up "Well, they also say you sparkle in the Sun and are a Vampire." She said. She was trying to make a joke out of it so he wouldn't hurt her.

"Sparkle?" He blinked. Low Light was the last one in the world that would 'sparkle'. Her joke failed like a lead balloon.

"You know, like in Twilight and how the vampires sparkled?" Firewall said.

It was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. Vampires didn't sparkle. Vampires came out at night and sucked blood. Throughout history they were the villains of any story. But not in any of them did they 'sparkle'.

Low Light went back to his position and picked up his M110 SASS. He looked it over. At least it wasn't damaged when he threw it down. In his scope he saw Janack making a question mark. He put a thumb up.

It was now 0400 and time for his last perimeter check. This one he would do himself. The night was going well and he didn't want to be around Firewall any more. He signaled that back to Janack. He made it to her site level he would tell her himself. In the mean time Janack was the only true night sniper on duty.

"I'm going on checks. Don't move until I tell you to Firewall. I'll be back in an hour." Low Light said. He added his gear and went down to the ground.

He climbed the stairs leading to Janack's sniper nest.

"Good morning Low Light." The October Guard said. "Is all well?" She asked. Through her scope she had watched the entire conversation even if she couldn't hear what was going on. All she knew was that Low Light looked pissed and Firewall looked apologetic. It was like watching a silent argument.

"Yeah, I just needed to stretch my legs. Keep an eye on Firewall and the perimeter. I'm going to do some checks." Low Light replied.

That was all that was needed. It was easy. Between Dana and Low Light they knew how to do their job. Low Light knew that Janack could watch the base by herself when he was down doing checks. He passed by a few greenshirts standing at attention near the gates and the outer wall and nodded. If Firewall listened to this latest rumor then they did too. He didn't stop. He had to wait until 0430 when he knew Beachhead would be awake doing his own routine and checks. It was Saturday morning but that didn't mean anything to Beachhead. He was still up and ready even if he was allowed sleep in. He wasn't looking forward to talking to the drill sergeant. He never looked forward to talking to anyone.

Like clockwork, Beachhead was out at the common grounds with a mug of coffee in his hand waking up. It would be a hundred pushups and a hundred sit ups followed by a brisk five mile run. Low Light stopped him.

For his part Beachhead turned around and faced him. The two men stood facing each other under the light of the American flag being illuminated in the dark. Their figures cast shadows across the common area. It was more or less neutral ground for anyone that was groomed and raised in the military. It was no different for Low Light and Beachhead.

Beachhead raised his mug. "What in the Hell was that all about last night?" He grumbled.

He had the right to complain. He was an E-9 command sergeant major with just a little bit more salad on his dress uniform. He was also fourth in General Hawk's chain of command.

"I sent Firewall out for first check." Low Light replied.

"Tell her to make some noise next time. We were waiting on your motorcycle." Beachhead said. "Do you know what will become of her post?" He asked. A report, any report, even if it was given by a low ranking enlisted was still investigated.

"I don't think you have to worry, Beachhead. I put the fear of the Lord in her." Low Light said. "You won't have any troubles from now on. I'll make sure of it."

Beachhead grumbled. He was one of the few in command that was the most vocal about fraternization and now it was his turn. "Yeah, well, we didn't hear your motorcycle." He mumbled.

Low Light shrugged. "She plays that damn fruit ninja all night long. You can listen for that. What are you up to in about fifteen minutes?"

"I'm just going to do the usual routine minus all the fucking greenshirts." Beachhead said.

"What do you think about adding one greenshirt? I don't want to deal with her anymore. She talks too much." Low Light shook his head and adjusted his M110. "I have to get to the roof."

"Yeah you and Deep Six are as silent as our resident ninja." He said. For someone as vocal and loud as Beachhead is he didn't understand why they were so quiet. He could understand the ninja Snake Eyes. He lost his vocal cords in a helicopter crash saving Scarlett fifteen years ago. Those two _chose_ to be quiet. "You can send Firewall down. Tell her I'll be waiting for her at the course." Beachhead replied. He almost had a gleam in his eye.

At the roof Firewall was playing on her phone. She quickly stood up and stuffed it in her pocket. The young woman looked scared. At her feet the lone M24 knocked against her boots. "Pick up your kit, Firewall and report to Beachhead A.S.A.P. He will meet you at the course in fifteen. And for fuck's sake don't ever let go of your weapon."

"Do you mean now?" Firewall asked. She bent down to pick up her rife still not sure how to hold it correctly. She held it like a spear in her arms too dangerously and pointing at everyone. Low Light walked up to her and jerked it back on her shoulder.

"Did I make myself clear Firewall? I said you are to report to Beachhead NOW." Firewall was fast getting on his nerves. If this night continued for the next month he would have to talk to General Hawk. The tech specialist just wasn't cut out for infantry. She was more of harm than a help. She would get people killed. Normally Low Light was a good teacher. His temperament was calm and patient. The ones he trained, he trained well. Low Light was as cool as his reputation. But he could lose his temper in frustration if things were not followed by regulation. Firewall seemed to disregard all regulations.

He set up and heard three beeps at the stairwell as Firewall tried to pull on the door. In her nervousness she yanked the handle too fast for the security tab to release. On the fourth try he heard the door open and slam with a loud shut chased after loud footsteps running down the stairwell. There was a stumble of equipment and a pause before he heard an "I'm alright!" and then some more running until he couldn't hear it anymore.

He steadied his scope and watched the common area.

Under the light he could see Beachhead in Firewall's face ordering her to pushups. Even at this range he could hear the tech support yelling "But I'm still on duty!"

"A soldier is always on duty, maggot! Don't you dare drop your gear! Drop and give me fifty!"

Firewall didn't know it but she was actually lucky. Her gear weighed only twenty pounds as opposed to the average sixty to ninety pounds the regular enlisted had to carry. At twenty pounds the greenshirts would think they were given a holiday, not punishment. Janack gave him a sarcastic look in his scope and he grinned. Finally for the first time in ten hours he could have some peace and quiet.

That was when his phone went off. He had it set on the highest security levels and on silence when he was on duty so by duty he opened it up and read the message. It had to be something important if it was at five AM texting him.

It was a message from the Med Bay with a "Your prescription has been filled and can be picked up between the hours of five AM and eight PM at the pharmacy. Be sure to bring ID when you pick up your prescription. All prescriptions unfilled will be discarded after thirty days. Thank you, the MB pharmacy team."

Low Light groaned inwardly. He was not happy to be experimented on. After so many fails he had just given up. He still remembered Psyche Out saying he could order him to take it though.

He signaled to Janack and headed out. The pharmacy was a twenty-four seven operation just like the Medical Bay. It was made up of night shifters just like him. A few he recognized. Night shift Mike waved at him in familiarity.

"We have your latest and greatest Low Light." He said. "All I need to see is your ID." Mike was used to filling and discarding whatever medication Low Light brought in. As a pharmacist he could recognize the symptoms just by how much and how often the night sniper was prescribed them. He had been behind the counter for years. "You've never taken this one. Do you have any questions?" He asked.

"I always ask if it's going to work but that never helped." Low Light replied. "Just give me the pill Mike."

After this many years of failure he was skeptical.

Mike looked sympathetic. "Well, you never know. There might be a magic bullet out there somewhere for you Low Light." He said.

"Yeah it's called Jack and Johnny Walker but we all know how that'll turn out. See you later Mike." He said.

When he reached the common area The Pit was waking up. There were the ones that were on duty for the weekend and some that just didn't have anything else to do. Firewall ran up with a still yelling Beachhead behind her. She was muddy and wet and close to tears. It would be a stretch to say that she was happy to see Low Light as opposed to Beachhead given the lesser of two evils. He had to smile to himself. That would teach her about being too curious.

"This is Firewall reporting in Staff Sergeant!" She stood at full attention until he put her at ease. She immediately dropped her hands to her knees and breathed hard.

"That was a nice walk in the park tech support." Beachhead said. "I don't normally have someone so eager to do drills on my weekends off. It's good to see you volunteered. You'll go far." Beachhead nodded at Low Light and left him in charge of the computer specialist. He had a spring in his step and a smile on his face as he headed to the mess hall.

He knew Firewall was calling him every name known to man and waited until she caught her breath and stood up.

"How was your run?" Low Light asked.

Firewall was still breathing hard and wiping at her face. The mud on her BDU's she tried to wipe off. "I don't think Beachhead likes me." She whispered. Her chin quivered and her jaw clenched. Low Light thought she really was going to cry.

He couldn't stand to watch a woman cry no matter what. He might be an asshole at times but his genetic memory told him that men did not allow women to cry. It was something ingrained when they were born with testicles.

"I would suggest playing fruit ninja at a loud level before you start your ten PM rounds, Firewall. As for tonight, you are still on orientation and none of your checks will be rolled over into a permanent record. It will be my checks. My checks say that the night was uneventful. Do you understand?" He asked.

She nodded. That meant that no matter what she saw it was still up to Low Light to confirm it. And as long as he said nothing happened, the word was law.

It was 0645 and they were back on the roof waiting for shift change.

Right on time Dixon came through the door and looked. His eyes roamed over Firewall's dirty boots and BDU's, the way the sweat curled her hair and clung to her cheek. Her shirt was soaking wet with sweat. It showed her body off. He bypassed her and crouched next to Low Light taking out his gear. Low Light watched. If he didn't know better he would think the E-3 had a crush on the tech girl.

"This is Dixon reporting for duty Staff Sergeant," He said. This morning he remembered the advice from the night before and crouched down.

Today he decided to test the E-3. "There is nothing to report Private Dixon. The perimeter is secured. The range is at two and a quarter miles."

Dixon paused like he knew he would. He looked out over the rising sun. "Yes Staff Sergeant. A range of two and a quarter miles."

The most the newbie scoped was a little less than two miles. Low Light was testing him. If the kid could make it then he would be in like Flynn. If he didn't he would be sent to the armory for the next five years. It was a pivotal moment.

He reported back with a "Low Light out" and turned off his com unit. The kid was already logged in.

His phone flashed again. That meant it was another emergent message. Low Light opened it only to see a message from General Hawk. That was an extra emergency since it came from the General. Low Light opened it quickly. If it was Hawk, it was important.

"See me at 1600 Monday. The mission has been moved up. It is Sierra Gordo." The email said.

He replied with his "Yes, Sir" and hit send.

Sierra Gordo was a fucked up place to be and the last place Low Light wanted to go. Still it must have been important for General Hawk to send an email in the middle of the night.

He watched Firewall taking way too much time checking in her rifle with Shipwreck talking, He was past annoyed and into pissed off, That shit could wait for later. He didn't need to check in.

"I'm keeping it. Just check in Firewall." He said.

Shipwreck knew enough to know that when Low Light said so then that meant a hairy mission was coming up. He stopped his flirting and put up Firewalls weapon. "If you need some more fire power let me know." He said. In the armory and checking out each weapon Shipwreck could tell what mission it would be. By Low Light not giving up his M110 that meant that the mission would be soon and a sniper would be sent out in the next two days.

"Good luck Low Light." He said.

Polly repeated "Good luck! Good luck! Awk! Good luck!"

End Chapter Five

Let it Bleed


	6. Chapter 6

For willwrite4fics. A semi challenge featuring Low Light in ten chapters. Each chapter will have the title of a Rolling Stones song.

The usual disclaimer: I don't own, not making a profit.

Chapter Six

Dancing with Mr. D

0730

Firewall followed behind Low Light like a lost puppy. She wanted to take a shower before breakfast. She was wet, muddy, and sweaty. Even smelling herself made her nose crinkle. Technically they were off duty. Now she was unsure if Low Light was going to dismiss her or not. She waited for permission.

Low Light stopped and looked over his shoulder. He sighed in irritation. "Are you going to follow me to the john too?" He said.

"Umm, I didn't know if I had to wait for permission or be dismissed." The computer tech answered. She shifted nervously at his stare. She had a month of this to go.

"I told you that the night shift is a different entity. You should know that by now. We're more casual. You do the same thing in the tech department. But yes, you are dismissed." He said.

"Thank you Staff Sergeant!" The relief on her face was overwhelming. All of her emotions showed on her face. Low Light rarely showed emotion.

"Good because I get shy with people staring at me while I piss." He said.

Firewall couldn't tell if that was his version of a joke or if he was telling the truth. She didn't stick around long enough to find out. This had to have been the worst shift she had ever been on.

The mess hall was busy this morning with the base being awake for morning rounds. He had to stand in line and wait his turn. The same cook from last night handed him scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and runny oatmeal. It was breakfast for dinner again. He sat down next to Beachhead. He was eating breakfast with Cover Girl.

"Good morning Low Light." Cover Girl said.

He had a mouthful of eggs and lifted his hand. Scrambled eggs and water didn't seem right. It was supposed to be breakfast with coffee not breakfast with water.

Cover Girl lowered her voice. "Thank you for last night, Low Light. Beachhead told me what happened. You didn't have to cover for us but you did." She said.

He grunted. Morning people always talked too much. It was the equivalent of having a conversation in the middle of the night to him. Hey wake up and let me tell you something I think is interesting but really isn't for a long period of time. It was redundant. He already told Beachhead and he didn't feel like repeating himself to Cover Girl. To him that was the end of it. He wasn't ignoring them. He just didn't find them all that fascinating.

"You have your sniper on. Did you get a mission?" Beachhead nodded towards Low Light's gear.

"Yeah, in a couple days we head out." Low Light said. Cover Girl rolled her eyes and put her hands up in the air.

"What?" Beachhead said.

'Sure the guy talks to you but all I get is grunts." She said.

"Nah, that's just Low Light." Beachhead said. "He won't talk to you until he gets to know you. It's taken ten years for me to get that much." He said. He turned back to Low Light. "What time are you going to hit it?" He asked.

Low Light shrugged. "I don't know. I'll probably head in around ten."

"I'll check in at noon and three to see what's up. Do you think you'll be up at six?" He asked.

"I should be. That's eight hours straight." He replied. A continuous eight hours of sleep was unheard of for Low Light. If he got six hours of sleep he considered himself lucky. Eight hours almost seemed like a waste of time.

"I'm not going to wake you up if you're still snoozing." Beachhead said. As for what he would do if it didn't work, Beachhead would do his usual. He would lift him by the arm and steer him towards the bed. He didn't think Low Light remembered. Even with his eyes wide open and bleary, he was still dreaming. He told interesting stories when he was like that. That was when Beachhead would nod and say "Uh huh. Is that so? That's pretty good. Why don't you get some sleep and think about it." Then Low Light would nod and crawl into bed like a little kid.

When he was violent Beachhead hit him back to wake him up. Sometimes he had to hit _hard. _He knew he left bruises but if they hurt Low Light never said. It was that or run the risk of Low Light hurting himself. He didn't know what he would do if it spiraled worse than that. He would probably be forced to call Med Bay STAT. And then the entire base would know. Low Light didn't need any more rumors going around about him and he couldn't afford to be placed on another psyche evaluation.

"Well, let me know." Beachhead said.

"Yeah I'll text you when I take it." Low Light mumbled. He dreaded taking another pill. He thought briefly about lying about it. As much as he had an aversion to it he still held out hope that maybe this time it would work.

He saw Firewall walk in and get her own breakfast. She sat with the greenshirts. They all seemed to know her and she smiled wide. As she ate the more animated the table became. Her hands flew around and made a gun position and the table laughed. There was no doubt that Firewall was telling them about her shift. He ignored it. In two days he would be on a mission and she would be relegated to Janack. Maybe Firewall would do better with another woman to talk to.

He finished his breakfast and emptied his tray. He stopped back at Beachhead's table. He had to say something but he didn't know what to say.

Finally he just garbled a "See you later Cover Girl." and left. She looked surprised but smiled. "See you later Low Light." She said.

He guessed he should get used to her since she was Beachhead's girl. It looked like she wasn't going anywhere. It was more than six months by now. He raised his hand to Beachhead. "I'll check in at noon." The drill sergeant said. Low Light nodded and went back to his quarters.

It was 0845. He still had an hour to clean his gear and scope and shower and shave. The first priority was to clean his rifle and then the lens. He checked the chamber and propped it by the wall. If anyone was a shift worker that worked twelve and fourteen hours or sometimes longer, they knew the feeling when it was time to take off his boots. It was heaven on a stick. He hung up his flak jacket and stripped. What he wanted was a hot shower. Beachhead complained so much to command about the water saving device on most of the bathrooms that his was as powerful as a stream of jet water. The heat eased his neck and back from leaning over the scope. One of these days he knew he wouldn't be able to do it. That would be when he would pass the torch to Dixon or some other up and coming hungry wolf.

He remembered himself during the first Persian Gulf War back in 1991. He was just a low Private like Dixon chomping at the bit in the new world of the military. That was twenty-two years ago. Soon he would start losing his eyesight, start making mistakes, and eventually be relegated to advisor status. He hoped he had at least five or seven more years in him until then. It didn't seem like long enough.

Low Light wrapped a towel around his waist and wiped the fog from the mirror. Tiredness was showing on his face. He would shave when he woke up. For now he dried off and lay in bed. In his mind he thought he could fall asleep on his own but he knew that was a lie.

With a groan he stood up and dug through his flak jacket for the new pill and his phone. Why the pharmacy had to make opening pills so difficult he never knew. He supposed it was a safety issue. He went to the bathroom and filled a Dixie cup with water.

"Down the hatch." He said to himself.

He went back and texted Beachhead "I took it." and lay back down again.

It was 0930.

He laid spread eagle repeating his mantra of "It's in your mind, it's in your mind, it's in your mind" until it started to blur with "It's in your mind. Is it true that. It's in your mind. Is it true that. It's in your mind. Is it true that."

He turned over on his stomach. He could feel the effects of the new drug taking control. He opened his eyes in a flash. It was at once wanted and not wanted. As much as he hoped the new pill would help, his body knew by failure to stay awake. It wanted to avoid the monsters. He commanded his body to sleep. His mantra became an "It's in your mind. Is it true that. Over hill over dale, as we hit the dusty trail, And the Caissons go rolling along. In and out, hear them shout; Counter march and right about,  
And the Caissons go rolling along. "

His brain repeated the hymn until he could feel his eyes getting heavy. Over and over Low Light memorized "It's in your mind. Is it true that. And the caissons go marching along." Low Light's feet automatically started marching in his sleep making a swish swoosh swish swoosh in time with his stride.

In his drug induced brain the repetitiveness was soothing. It was as if he were rocking himself to sleep. Between his routine and his wandering feet, he fell asleep by 1015.

At exactly noon Beachhead checked in. It was weird to see Low Light sitting straight up in bed, eyes wide open and singing. He stopped inside the dark bedroom.

Beachhead blinked. Those must be powerful drugs.

"Over hill, over dale, as we hit the dusty trail, and those caissons go rolling along.

In and out, hear them shout, Counter March and right about,  
and those caissons go rolling along.  
Then it's hi! Hi! hee! In the field artillery, Shout out your numbers loud and strong, for where ever you go, you will always know that those caissons go rolling along.

In the storm, in the night, Action left or action right See those caissons go rolling along Limber front, limber rear, Prepare to mount your cannoneer  
And those caissons go rolling along

Was it high, was it low, and where the hell did that one go?  
As those caissons go rolling along  
was it left, was it right, now we won't get home tonight  
and those caissons go rolling along."

Just to humor him, he stepped inside and put a hand on his shoulder singing "And those caissons go rolling along." He said. He eased Low Light back down into bed. "Now go to sleep, Low Light." He said.

Low Light blinked once and scratched at the hair on his belly with a final "And the caissons go rolling along." and farted.

His jaw went slack. His eyes were still. His breathing was deep and even.

Beachhead almost laughed.

"See you at three, Low Light."

"Yes Sir. It's in your mind. Is it true that. And the Caissons go marching along." Low Light mumbled. He breathed deep as he sang and turned over. Whatever he was dreaming about wasn't dangerous this time. He turned off the lights and shut the door.

It wasn't the worst thing he had to do. This one actually seemed benign. Singing was a hell of a lot better to deal with than swinging fists.

Beachhead met up with Cover Girl in the mess hall for lunch. By now the weekenders were off base beginning their shifts off and it was just the hard core Joe's that stuck around.

Cover Girl smiled when she saw him. She had two trays already. They sat down where they normally did. "How's sleeping beauty?" She asked.

They were in the middle of a good conversation when Beachhead's alarm went off making him check on the night sniper. Now that they were interrupted he went to check in on him. Cover Girl was curious.

"Oh, he's fine. He sat up and sang the entire verse of The Caisson Song and went back to sleep." Beachhead said.

The image made her laugh. It wouldn't go any further than between her and Beachhead but she could only imagine what had happened.

"Awww, I would let him sleep Beachhead. Who knows when the last good nights' sleep he's had." Cover Girl said.

"I know. I've been roommates with him for ten years. The man never sleeps. If he can sleep now then I'm going to let him." Beachhead replied. "The next check is at three PM. What are you doing then?" He asked.

"Ugh, I have to look at Clutch's Hemi Big Block." Cover Girl replied. "It's my weekend off and guess who gets to catch up on the back log. What about you?" She said.

Beachhead almost looked disappointed with as little as she could see with his balaclava. He twisted his neck to relax it. "I'm just babysitting Low Light for the next six hours." He said. "I'll hang out in the motor pool then. Is it just you today?" He asked.

Cover Girl nodded. She had a wicked smile on her face.

Except for his run in with Firewall early this morning, the rest of the day had been uneventful for the drill sergeant. There were no greenshirts to run drills on and no repairs of the obstacle course he had to do. From sun up to sun down he would doubtless be in bed by eight PM.

In between time he could spend his weekend off however he wanted. He smiled.

At 1500 when his alarm went off again, he silenced it and looked up. He was sure Low Light was alright and still marching in his sleep. He went back to what he was doing with Cover Girl.

"Do you think you should answer that?" Cover Girl asked. She sighed.

"He'll be fine. Now where were we?"

By then it was 1920 and time for nighttime reveille.

They heard it.

"Follow me to the grounds then Ranger Man." Cover Girl winked. Beachhead grinned and they walked out to the common area. A lot of the seniors were out at sunset bullshitting and they did their own bullshitting as well. These were the ones confined to base either by order or by personal choice. Then it was time for night time reveille and everyone stood still as the American flag was illuminated for the night. The seniors saluted and went their separate ways.

Beachhead and Cover Girl went back to the Motor Pool.

The worst feeling besides being a greenshirt and being woken up at ungodly hours on their day off was the feeling of having an alarm go off in the middle of personal time. That was the way Beachhead felt.

In the middle of the Motor Pool with no one around and no one expected to be around, he could have hours this weekend if he wanted them. In its place was the fucking phone beeping and cutting short any time he had with his girlfriend.

He felt Cover Girl groan and push him away. He looked up from her neck to check the alarm. It was 2000 PM. He missed his 1800 check in.

He buried his chin in Cover Girl's clavicle. "I have to check this. It's been ten hours. I'm sorry, babe." He bit her ear and stood up.

"Oh I know. I feel bad for the guy. Isn't there anything they can do for him?" Cover Girl asked.

"I've known Low Light off and on for the past fifteen years but if you ask me let the man deal with his problems himself and quit fucking around in it. They just make it worse. I have to go check." Beachhead said.

Cover Girl arranged her collar. "Over hill, over dale, as we hit the dusty trail, and those caissons go rolling along. In and out, hear them shout, Counter March and right about,  
and those caissons go rolling along." She said.

"Ha ha, Cover Girl. If it's eight PM then that means Low Light has been asleep for ten hours. He won't be happy being woken up."

Cover Girl finished arranging her collar. "Good luck Wayne." She said. It was good that Low Light had so many friends that stood by him. He could use them. He kissed her one last time before going to bed.

It was eight PM and Low Light was still deep asleep. He was naked except for his standard boxers holding onto a pillow with his left leg bent up and his left arm under his head in a Superman pose. At any minute he was ready to take to the skies and protect the city of metropolis.

For now he was drooling on his pillow with his eyelids fluttering. Beachhead didn't remember if the sniper did sleep that well. He didn't even look in distress.

Beachhead thought about waking him up but changed his mind. Low Light needed it. Even if it was chemically induced it had to account for something. Maybe this Sonata would be the one that worked on the insomniac night sniper.

He stripped and took his own shower. Low Light had left it on between "Oh My God that's hot. Someone do something!" to "Help me I'm being boiled alive! My skin it burns!"

He quick scrubbed up and stood in front of the mirror. Low Light shaved in the afternoon but Beachhead shaved in the morning. He didn't grow that fast and could last until morning. The bathroom looked like a Marilyn Monroe wet dream with pill bottles scattered on the counter. He didn't know how Low Light kept track of all the pills he had to take. Beachhead never touched them.

He dried off until her heard Low Light groaning. It always started out like a series of grunts and high pitched noises almost as if he were trying to say something.

"Mmm herrm, eeeeem, uhhh huh, eeeem, mmmm." Low Light turned over on his left side and then on his back. He breathed regularly before giving "Eeeng errrk unng emmmie."

Whatever he was saying it must have been good. His eyes twitched and he kicked the covers off his feet. His left hand twitched as if he were holding a rifle and he marched on the bed in rhythm.

Beachhead watched. It looked like Low Light would settle down. He had ten hours in. It was probably his way of waking up.

Suddenly Low Light sat up and looked directly at him and said "They're crawling. You have to stop them crawling. It's in your mind. Is it true? And the caissons go marching along."

He fell back on his bed hard with his arms raised up and snored.

"Yes, Low Light. I'll take care of the Caissons." Beachhead said. He really didn't know what to say at this point. They worked opposites so he didn't know what the sniper normally did. All he knew was that it was 2030 and time for his own bedtime.

But, Low Light was asleep, he was getting ready for sleep, and the rest of the base would be asleep. That was all he needed to know.

End Chapter Six

Dancing with Mr. D

According to the Rolling Stones, Mr. D is Death


	7. Chapter 7

For willwrite4fics. A semi challenge featuring Low Light in ten chapters. Each chapter will have the title of a Rolling Stones song.

The usual disclaimer: I don't own, not making a profit.

Chapter Seven

Gimme Shelter

2145

Low Light rolled over and looked at the alarm clock. It was 2145. He blinked and studied the time. In his drug induced sleep mixed with his own exhausted state he didn't know if it was nine AM or nine PM. He had a moment of panic where he thought that he was two hours late for his duty. It was a hit of adrenaline that no cup of coffee could compare to. Then he remembered that it was his weekend off.

In the opposite end of the room Beachhead was snoring like a drowned cow. That meant it was evening. He checked the clock. He had been asleep for twelve hours. He sat with a "Beach."

The drill sergeant moved but didn't wake up.

"Beach" Low Light said again.

This time the drill sergeant turned over to face him. "What?" He said. He was still half asleep but like any Joe he could be awake in an instant. This wasn't as important as he had to stand at attention and jump out of bed. It was just Low Light.

"I slept for twelve hours. Did anything happen?" Low Light asked.

The room was in a state of pitch black with only alarm clocks shining in the dark.

It was the first night slash morning that Low Light experimented with the new drug. As far as he knew the medicine had worked like a charm. For the first time in a long time his mind felt clear and his body felt ready. He was wide awake without the usual tiredness behind it.

Beachhead yawned and lay flat on his back. "Eh, you sang the entire verse of The Caissons going Rolling Along but that was about it." Beachhead said. He closed his eyes again. "Everything was good."

Beachhead lay down while Low Light finished. It was weird having someone in the room. He paced quietly beginning his own routine of dressing and gathering his equipment. Just because it was his weekend off didn't mean that he couldn't arm himself. Beachhead was back to sleep by the time he left.

At 2300 he was in the mess hall watching the news or reading the paper. He was the only one there. He didn't like his weekend off since the incident. Normally he would be the first one revving up his motorcycle and heading to town with Jack and a twenty dollar woman on his mind. Now he was confined to the base like a rat in a maze.

Sometimes there would be a straggler coming in and out struggling with their lack of sleep but for the most part Low Light had the base to himself. It was only the skeleton crew around. He decided to head to the rec room and watch TV. After this many years he was the King of late night TV. He knew every bad movie and infomercial that came on. He still missed Billy Mays. Ron Popeil just didn't hold his interest. He swore that if he ever had enough money he would buy every product on TV.

He passed Snake Eyes in the hall. The ninja stopped him with a hand on his chest. He held up his hands. Low Light could understand basic ASL but only if the ninja signed very slowly. It was something the Joe's learned by working with him for so many years. He spelled out Monday and drew a question mark in the air.

"Yeah, I got an email from Hawk. I'll be there." He said.

Snake Eyes nodded and went about his business.

That was why Snake Eyes was one of his favorite people. He didn't talk much and in a fire fight there was no one else he wanted with him. He was toe to toe with Scarlet but no one paid any attention to that detail. They kept things discreet. When it was time for a mission they were both nothing but business.

He opened the door to the rec room only to find a half dozen greenshirts involved in a heated game of Call of Duty. Firewall was there with Dixon. That was new. They all stood up when he entered the room. It was annoying. Ever since 9-11 the base was filled with greenshirts. It used to be that he could sit for hours in the rec room without anyone disturbing him. Now it felt like the base was crawling with them.

That shot down his idea of a quiet night watching TV. He couldn't be seen hanging out with a bunch of privates. He didn't want to be around them. With the latest rumor going around he didn't want to look at their accusing stares. He nodded and turned around.

He roamed the base like a cat. At times he would sit on a crate, look out past the chain linked fence, took peaks with his sniper rifle out into the desert or head back to the mess hall for coffee. At some point he dug out the Little Debbie Snack cake left over from last night. It was flattened like a pancake but still edible. Soldiers weren't picky.

It was 2 AM when he heard the Motor Pool hopping. That meant that Clutch, Shipwreck, and Ace were playing poker and drinking. He decided to take a look. Firewall and Dixon were there also. He supposed they stopped their game of Call of Duty when the rest of the greenshirts went to sleep. They were all playing poker and listening to the radio. He could hear Sympathy for the Devil in the background.

"Holy shit look what the cat dragged in!" Clutch grinned.

Shipwreck took a cigar out of his mouth. "It's not a party until Low Light steps in." He snorted. In reality the exact opposite was true. Firewall and Dixon were caught in a half stand, half sit position looking the entire subject of 'Uhhh'. They didn't know what to do.

Ace set his bottle of beer on the table. "Relax, it's all friendly here." He said. "Isn't that so Low?"

"It doesn't bother me." Low Light replied. He stayed standing basically just listening to the radio. He didn't know it but his silence made the people at the table feel awkward. To him he was just standing there. Firewall and Dixon felt uncomfortable.

"Yeah pull up a chair and have a drink Low. Tonight is your night off isn't it?" Clutch said at last. He was studying the cards in his hands. Shipwreck elbowed him hard. He winced and looked over. "Hey!" Then he remembered. He rubbed his lips. "Or maybe you can have a Sprite. Sorry." He said.

Low Light shifted and replied "Maybe next time, Clutch" He said. "Don't stay up too late Dixon. You have a shift on Monday morning."

Ace snickered "Yes, Dad. Jesus Christ Low Light, its Saturday." He said.

"Well how about that!" Shipwreck said. "I think he likes you Dix. You even got two words out of him." He laid his hand on the table and said "Read them and weep ladies. I won the full house."

There were groans all around as Shipwreck raked in his hand. "Oh yeah I'm hot tonight."

Clutch began to shuffle the next hand. When the table looked up again Low Light was gone. No one knew when he left. He always left without a word. "God he gives me the creeps." Dixon whispered.

Shipwreck looked over. "Who gives you the creeps? Do you mean Low Light?" He asked. He nodded. "That's just the way he is. You'll get used to it. I would consider you lucky. He's keeping an eye on you."

"He is?" He asked.

Shipwreck grinned and looked at his hand "Oh sure." He said. "He's like a roach. He scatters once you turn the lights on. For Low Light to come around in the middle of the night is special. He's not known to socialize."

Dixon looked at his hand. The man was legend in the sniper community. He was used like a vague reference such as 'There's this guy in the Army that can shoot the wings off a gnat at two miles away'. There would be laughing all around until someone said "No shit. I saw him pick off a Taliban towel head from a ridge in Mazar Sharif at three thousand yards'. Of course no one believed it. Now Dixon was in front of the man himself. If he could be trained by Low Light it would make his career. He swallowed hard.

"Really" He asked. He hoped it wasn't just some bullshit the seniors were feeding him. He would feel like a fool if he started following Low Light around and it was all a giant joke.

Firewall laughed. "Oh my God Dix you do _not_ want to follow Low Light around. You need to take my word for it. There was nothing to do. Shipwreck is right. He never talks. It was the most God Awful night of my life. It was boring." She puffed and laid her cards on the table. "I'm out."

Ace smiled wide. "I have Queens over Jacks people. Unless you have something more, I got this one. Booyah!" He said.

Dixon laid down his cards. It was Aces and Eights. The Dead Man's hand.

It wasn't until 1500 Monday afternoon that Dixon would come to realize how true his hand was. All he was given was a text by General Hawk ordering him to the operations room at 1600. He reported off to some unknown and nearly ran to the room. He had been so nervous that he showed up an hour early. He stood and waited for forty-five minutes. It was almost to the point where he thought someone had hacked his phone and was playing a prank on him.

It wasn't until he saw Flint and Duke turn the corner towards Hawk's office that he thought it was true. He saluted and held his tongue until he was acknowledged.

"Private Dixon." Flint said. "It's good to see a soldier geared up and ready early." He said.

Duke didn't say anything.

Low Light walked up with a cup of coffee in his hand. He looked surprised to see Dixon there. He saluted to Flint and Duke and went back to his coffee. He ignored Dixon.

When General Hawk walked in all four men stood at attention and saluted. He passed by each one and paused at Dixon for a moment. It was only one or two seconds. Dixon had no idea what to do next. General Hawk opened the operations room and they followed him in.

It was less like an operation room and more like an amphitheater. It was positioned in a semi circle with a podium at the top and chairs leading towards the doors. Hawk walked up to the podium.

"Make yourself at ease men. I'm sure each of you knows why you are here." He said. On the movie screen behind him Hawk pulled up a map of Sierra Gordo with his computer. It was exceptionally detailed. On the left side of the screen opposite an oval that marked the city of Rio Lindo was an X. According to the map it was about five hundred kilometers away from the capital.

"As of 1800 Friday evening our Intel retrieved information about a secret Cobra factory in the jungle of Sierra Gordo. I called each of you here today because all three of you have been to Sierra Gordo in the past. Dixon" The General nodded "This will be the first time you have been there."

Dixon replied with "Yes, Sir" and focused as hard as he could. The General would never recognize him if it wasn't an important mission. He suddenly felt queasy and honored all at once. He willed his stomach not to throw up. Not now.

The General looked at Low Light. The sniper had a hunch what the General was doing and it pissed him off. "Low Light, I am putting Dixon on your team as spotter. We will need a range of one and a half to two miles. Dixon will be your back up." He said.

"Your objective is to render this fucking factory useless. And I mean useless." He tapped the screen where the X was. "Blow it off the maps if you have to but I will not see a Cobra factory in Sierra Gordo. Flint you can thank your wife for the information on such notice. And Duke you will be the man on the street. What you see, I see. Low Light and Dixon, you are on long range patrol. Your purpose is to pick off any and all guards you see while my men enter the compound. Be accurate. This is going to be a low kill mission. You will be dropped twenty miles out and three days before the rest. Low Light it is up to you to take position to cover the rest of the troops. Dixon, you are Low Light's spotter. His word is the word of God." The General said. "This is to be a two pronged attack. The first attack will be Low Light and Dixon making cover for the first troop. The second troop will be sent in fifteen minutes later to subdue any rebel forces. That will be your command Duke. Are there any questions?" The General asked.

No one responded but as for Dixon himself he had a million questions.

General Hawk stopped. "In that case, gear up Low Light and Dixon. You have an evening flight to catch. Be ready at 1830." He said. "Until then, the rest of you are dismissed."

They stood at once at attention. Flint and Duke saluted before they left. It was only General Hawk, Low Light, and Dixon left.

Low Light paused "Permission to speak, General Hawk."

The General looked over and nodded. "What is it Low Light?" He asked.

"Is this mission on or off the books?" Low Light asked. The difference was miles apart. A black bag operation meant no one knew the mission while an open mission came from Washington.

General Hawk pressed the button for the screen. "It's not from Washington if that is what you are asking Low Light." He said.

"Yes, Sir, that is what I am asking." Low Light replied. He didn't salute Washington unless it was the President himself. He saluted General Hawk. That was who he followed.

Hawk turned around slowly. He was looking at Low Light but he also knew that this would be Private Dixon's first call. "This will go no further than this room Low Light but no, the orders are not from Washington. It is orders by your General. According to Lady Jaye the factory you described that is making the new sniper rifles for the Pentagon are made by Cobra. We can't let that happen." He said. "You were right."

Low Light gave a head tilt. It wasn't the first time that the Army had sent him out in the middle of the night on a hush-hush mission. He wanted to know what he was walking into.

General Hawk dismissed them.

In the hall Low Light stopped. By habit Dixon stopped too. He leveled his gaze over the sniper. So Dixon was going to be his replacement. It all seemed too soon. In five years Dixon would be him. Low Light knew that the best years were between twenty-five and thirty five. It was a time when he wasn't new but still eager or too old to change his ways. He was close to forty. That was old in the military. Most people opted for retirement after their twenty. Low Light would stay Army for the rest of his life.

Dixon was only twenty years old. He was a good six feet tall and one hundred and eighty pounds. He would probably grow until he was twenty-five. He had the standard military haircut but what little Low Light could see was brown. He had hazel eyes and a bottom lip that was larger than the upper one. Low Light could see the scar of an ear piercing on his right ear. He had the frame of an Army man. His shoulders were broad, his stomach flat, and his hips narrow. On his leg was a 9 millimeter. Other than that it was the only gear that Dixon wore. He was the picture of 'greenshirt'.

It was his first mission.

Low Light finished his coffee and threw it in the trash. He looked at Dixon. "If I were you I would bring extra socks. You should bring lots of socks." He said. If Low Light remembered anything about Sierra Gordo it was the fact that his feet never truly felt dry. The private dipped his chin. "Also, even off duty you should wear your gear." He jerked at Dixon's lack of a sniper rifle. "You're sniper qualified and infantry. No one will stop you."

"Law stopped me." Dixon said.

Low Light waved his hand as if he were swatting an imaginary fly. "That was Law. He likes to test newbies. I mean greenshirts. I meant fuck. He plays jokes on privates along your level." He eventually spat out. "You need to stand your ground."

The day sniper held his eyes with Low Light. It was a good sign. It meant that the kid had confidence. "Take your stuff Dixon. We leave in two hours." He said.

All Low Light needed was a cup of coffee and his sniping rifle for any mission but Dixon had on his basic pack set up. In his were two liters of water, some chemical coffee, and MRE's. He didn't expect them to be very long. The most important thing was the cloth case he carried.

At 1815 they heard before they saw the dragonfly flutter and set down on the pavement. The pilot didn't wait and Low Light tucked his head throwing in his equipment. Dixon did the same.

Today it was Wild Bill. He looked behind him and did a double take. He knew he was picking up Low Light but the new kid he hadn't heard about.

"He's my spotter." Low Light said. A spotter was an essential part of being a sniper especially when they were used for extreme distances like the one required in Sierra Gordo. It was the spotter that gave the command to fire or not fire based upon trajectory, distance, and speed.

Wild Bill smiled. "I don't care as long as you say so Low Light. I'm Wild Bill's overpaid glorified taxi service of the skies today." He chuckled. "You'd better buckle up kids. We have a ten hour flight coming up."

He would stop in Panama overnight and rest up. He knew that more than likely he would be called in for an extract in a few days. He would let the dragonfly rest.

He flew over the tops of thick jungle with its large kapok trees and lush canopy.

It was 0200. Dixon was asleep but Low Light was up in the cock pit talking to Wild Bill off and on. He shook the private awake.

"Dixon. It's time." He said.

Wild Bill set down in a clearing and Low Light and Dixon grabbed their gear. From here on out they were on their own.

They disappeared in the thicket of the jungle.

End Chapter 7


	8. Chapter 8

For willwrite4fics. A semi challenge featuring Low Light in ten chapters. Each chapter will have the title of a Rolling Stones song.

The usual disclaimer: I don't own, not making a profit.

Chapter Eight

Paint it Black

0200

As soon as Wild Bill took off Dixon crouched down and took out his sniping scope. Low Light stood up and stretched. They were four feet inside the canopy but might have been two miles away for as thick as it was. Low Light looked down. "Not yet Dixon you have two days of carrying that to go." He waved his hand at the jungle. "You don't have to crouch down. There's nothing here but trees. And I'm pretty sure they're harmless."

It made Dixon feel like an idiot. First he was told to crouch down. Now he was being told it wasn't necessary. "Yes Staff Sergeant." He whispered. He busied himself placing the scope back into the protective foam case to keep it from being damaged. That would be all he needed. To have it break on him on his first mission.

"You can just call me Low Light, Dixon. The trees don't care what rank I am. Get your gear on and switch it to night mode. Don't switch on the infra red. There are too many bugs and creatures around down here. It'll flood your field of vision." Low Light said.

He took out his GPS.

"You can forget that too. Those markers are made for the northern hemisphere. We're past the equator now. The only thing you will see is the Fox Galaxy and the Southern Cross." He stopped and looked. "Don't rely too much on technology Dixon. Out here you have to rely on your gut. Let's go."

"Yes Low Light." Dixon replied. He couldn't help but feel excited. The man that everyone talked about in the elite world of snipers let him call him by name. He took a deep breath and tried to keep from smiling. He was on a serious mission. It couldn't be known that he was giggling like a school girl.

He took out his helmet and night vision glasses. They were the same type and style as Low Light's with a snug strap around his head to keep them from falling off. The lenses were a deep crystal red. He supposed it made him look like some weird alien bug with red eyes. When he put them on he expected his vision to turn red. To his surprise it was as clear as daylight. It was like looking at the world color blind. He could see every sharp detail in black, grays, and whites. He took the time to look around and up at the sky. It was like looking at the world in hyper focus. His mind had to take some time to adjust for it. This was the way that Low Light saw the world.

"Cool." He said.

When he looked back Low Light was staring at him. He almost jumped. He wasn't expecting that.

Low Light sighed. "Come on. Let's go. We won't stop for another five hours." He said.

"Then what do we do?" Dixon asked.

"Then we have breakfast." Low Light said.

It was like they were in the boy scouts going on a camping trip to him. Only they were carrying guns. And it was in the middle of the night in a country that the rest of the World had written off. Dixon was too carried away looking at everything from his new perspective. It seemed like he could see for miles. The night vision goggles took his naturally keen eyesight and magnified it by ten. That was how he became sniper qualified. He had two years in and had to make a decision about his choice of military career. His C.O. recommended him. To his surprise it was a lot harder than picking up a gun and shooting. There was trajectory to learn and geometry and formulations for velocity and speed. By the time he sat for his Sniper Tab it was a lot harder than "Nancy is on a train leaving Kansas City at sixty miles an hour. Doug is on a train leaving from Denver at ninety miles an hour. At what point will the two trains meet?"

No, he never wanted to read another vector quantity formula in his entire life. He didn't know it would involve so much physics.

He was two to five years younger than the rest of the candidates so that made it even harder. It was a joke to try and break each other's concentration on the course. Once he was sent in the wrong direction and had to double back. It was cut throat. He quickly found out that these men were not his friends. They were his competition. There was only a limited amount of positions open and they all vied for it.

When it came down to it Dixon only succeeded by a weird trick of genetics. He just so happened to be born with better eyesight. It didn't matter if he was better at math and physics or how well he could calculate. He was the one with the longest range, period.

There were handshakes and a few saying "Good Luck" but that weekend after he earned his Sniper Tab he got so drunk he called his mom saying something about Thank you for the eyes and cried. He woke up in a Ramada Inn off the highway with a Latina cleaning lady pounding on the door.

When he applied and was accepted into the GI Joe team, he thought he would have the pussy all lined up. What woman didn't love an Army man let alone an elite Army man and sniper. He strutted that around like a rooster with his tail feathers out. Instead when he went to the bars and told the girls what he did, they would respond with a "So you kill people?" And that was the end of that.

He tried to explain that it was more than that but it never worked. It was more times than not he left early.

That's when he went to Nebraska.

He still remembered stepping out of the transport plane with about twenty other hopefuls and coming face to face with a yelling drill sergeant in his face. He didn't even have time to stop before he was ordered to grab his gear and run full tilt to the obstacle course. He had to carry his full pack.

He was told in no uncertain terms that now that he was playing with the big boys, he'd better prove himself. There was no one around to hold his hand. What he had to do he had to do on his own.

Everywhere he turned there was a Joe looking at him as if to say "So this is the new guy huh?"

The only place he was told was his barracks with the rest of the greenshirts and the course. If he couldn't find the mess hall he didn't eat. There was no orientation about where things were or where they went. On his first day he was an hour late to the firing range. He caught Hell for that. Since then he knew exactly where to go. It was the most miserable six weeks of his life. He thought that since he survived basic he could survive this too. He was wrong. This was basic multiplied to the thousandth degree.

Within two weeks five greenshirts were sent back with exhaustion. By the first month another three had been dismissed because of medical reasons. During the rigorous exercises there was a real chance of being injured or even killed. Everyone was tested to their metal.

No one was more surprised to see the computer expert with Low Light than Dixon was. He was almost jealous. Out of all of the greenshirts on the base he expected it to be him that was chosen to shadow behind. When she reported for duty, he hid his surprise. He had gotten used to Firewall on his evenings off when they would play video games in the rec room until midnight. It was what his generation did. He had to admit he had a small crush on the woman but he doubted anything would become of it. She worked nights and spent hours in front of a computer screen. He worked days and spent hours looking out over the perimeter. There was no way it would work.

By the end it was only Dixon and five other greenshirts left in the barracks. They were as tight as thieves by then. That was the first weekend they were given leave and they took full advantage of it.

It was also the first time he met Low Light. It was by accident. He stopped into the mess hall to get some water to wash out the whiskey in his mouth and he was just sitting there. He was reading the paper and drinking a cup of coffee. He didn't bother to look up.

It might have been the whiskey but Dixon somehow found the courage to go up to him.

Now that he looked back on it the night sniper must have passed him off as a high functioning retard. There was a lot of jabbering on his part, a few nods and grunts out of Low Light, and then a long awkward moment where he was just standing there. Eventually he got the hint and squeaked out of there with his tail between his legs.

It was embarrassing.

Dixon was so caught up in the quiet and rhythm and memories that by the time he looked back to the trail head, he couldn't see Low Light. He had a moment of panic where he thought "Oh my God I'm out here in the middle of the jungle by myself! Did he leave me? Did he get tired of me and just drop me off out here? Will they come and look for me? Where am I supposed to go?"

He calmed down and stood still like his training told him. He paused and looked in a one hundred and eighty degree direction. He turned around and did the same on the opposite end. He still couldn't see or hear Low Light anywhere.

If the rumors about Low Light were true, then Dixon believed he really did just leave him here by himself.

He cleared his dry throat. "Low Light" He whispered.

The only thing he could hear was his heartbeat in his ears with a rush of blood. The only thing he could see was the grey of the trees and the black of the night.

"Low Light" He whispered again.

If he was out there then Dixon couldn't see him. At one minute he was right in front of him when he looked down briefly and by the time he looked up, he was gone.

He turned his head left. He was standing right there. He swallowed. It was downright scary how he could come and go like that.

"What?" Low Light said.

"I didn't see where you went." Dixon replied.

"I had to take a leak." He said. "You need to work on your night specs. Never lose track of who you are following especially out here. Come on, let's go. We still have an hour to go."

It was 0600. Then sun wouldn't be up for another hour. In the canopy the sun never penetrated this far. It was in a perpetual state of dusk. Since then Dixon didn't stop watching Low Light for a second. Where he went, Dixon went. He didn't even look down at his feet when he thought what the Hell was that I just stepped in. Whatever it was, he could wait to inspect it later. The only thing he focused on was Low Light's back and the rhythm of his boots. The only transition between night and day that he could tell was the sounds of the jungle getting louder and louder. The bugs came out in force sprinting before their feet with hairy legs and flutters of wings. It would be a beautiful country if it wasn't so dangerous.

Low Light stopped. Dixon almost ran into him at how sudden it was. He crouched down slowly and held a fist in the air. Dixon did the same. Low Light pivoted on the balls of his feet looking towards the south. His head didn't move an inch. He turned so slowly that it was imperceptible. He pointed at his eyes and into a part of the jungle shaped by vines and rock. Dixon looked over. His heart hammered. He didn't know what he was supposed to be looking for. If Low Light could see it then he was hands down a better sniper than he was with better eyes.

Low Light grabbed his jaw and pointed his face towards the jungle. That was when he saw it. She was walking along the outer edge of the jungle with a cub behind her. She was the most beautiful thing he ever seen. At around 130 pounds the jaguar paced and opened her mouth. It was the big cats' way of smelling the air. She was so close that Dixon could almost hear her rapid breathing. The cub was perhaps one year old but equally menacing. He made noises to his mother.

She looked annoyed. Her tail switched and she gave two small growls as if to say "This is _my_ territory. You're only visiting."

The cub did the same.

She paced further with the cub following behind her. She turned once to give a final growl. "I'll allow you to pass this time." And then they disappeared into the forest.

"Oh. Wow" Dixon whispered.

He looked over. Low Light was smiling. He had crooked bottom teeth. "Yeah" He said.

Low Light didn't move for a good sixty to ninety seconds. Except for that moment it was only following behind him for Dixon. He thought that was the most he would get out of the night sniper. He had only seen a jaguar in zoos before tonight. He considered himself lucky to see one in the wild.

When he finally stood up he motioned to Dixon. "We'll stop in an hour for breakfast and continue on. The next twenty miles are going to be thick. Cobra will have their own spotters out. I guarantee it." He said.

Dixon nodded. For some reason he added 'Thank you Low Light." If he was on his own he would have never seen the jaguar.

"We'll stop at 2000 for the night. We still have two days. Stay alert Dixon."

It was 0800 when they stopped again. Low Light chose a clearing next to the path they were following. Dixon set down his pack and sat on the ground. His ass felt wet. It seemed like this country never dried out. In between the trees and the jungle the air smelled like debris and mold. Everywhere he looked there were termite mounds crawling up the trees like little highways. He took out two MRE's with scrambled eggs that were an orange he never saw in nature.

He had to wonder exactly what he was putting in his body. But he was twenty, he had been hiking for six hours, and he was hungry. He didn't judge it.

"You might want to stand up and eat, Dixon." Low Light said.

Throughout the night he could only remember about six or eight sentences the night specialist said to him. He stood up and wiped the mud from his butt. He wasn't looking forward to putting his pack back on. It lay discarded on the ground and was equally wet. Low Light was right. His feet did feel wet like they would never dry out.

As Low Light's spotter he was basically used as a human mule. He felt less like a spotter and more like a long range reconnaissance patrol. The sniper only carried his gear and weapons while Dixon was packed down with water, food, his scope, and extra supplies. As the new guy he knew he would be the bitch of the mission. He also knew if he complained he would be sent down the river for the next twenty years of his career. He kept his mouth shut.

Firewall was right. The man didn't talk. He thought after hours of trekking through the jungle he would say something. Except for the time with the jaguar, Low Light completely ignored him.

He had to take his goggles off. The day was coming up and the band around his head was too tight. He only realized halfway through taking them off the way Low Light held up his hand in warning moving so fast that Dixon didn't realize it until it was too late.

The sun hit him like a ball of blinding white light until the world turned into a negative of what he just saw. He was immediately sightless stumbling around in the jungle with a giant pit of vertigo in his stomach. He tipped over and landed hard on the ground. He felt like he was going to puke.

Low Light put a hand on his shoulder and eased his goggles back on. "That's not a good idea Dixon." He said.

Then he did throw up.

It took a good two to five minutes until he thought he could feel toenails in his throat before it stopped. Low Light had the decency to wait on the trail until he was finished.

He blinked at the world until he could focus. Low Light was standing over him.

He looked up "God, how can you stand it?" He said. He was at the point of dry heaves but at least he could see.

Low Light shrugged. "I don't take them off." He said. "You have to take them off slow. Take them off at night and wait until your eyes adjust on their own." He offered his hand out "You OK now?"

Dixon reached out for his offered hand and stood up. He nodded holding back mucous and acid in the back of his throat. "There goes breakfast." He mumbled.

Low Light turned around to check their surroundings while Dixon wiped his face. He pulled out one of the bladders of water and rinsed his mouth out. On the trail Low Light was checking in to the control room. He could hear a shortened version of the report.

"This is Low Light checking in. It is Low Light and Dixon. We are ten kilometers in. We saw a jaguar. Dixon stepped in monkey shit. There is no activity to report."

So that was what was sticking to the bottom of his boot. He heard the control laugh and then General Hawk.

Everyone stopped laughing. "Take is easy Low Light. We're reporting a lot of activity near the factory within the past twenty four hours. I don't have to tell you to keep your ears and eyes open." He said.

"Yes Sir" Low Light said. "The next check in will be at 2000 hours. Low Light out."

"Acknowledged, the next check in is at 2000." Sci Fi said.

"Hi Dixon" He heard Firewall say. He could imagine her waving to the computer screen even though he couldn't see her. It must be past her shift but she was still there in the control room. There were awe's and laughs until he turned to Low Light.

Low Light walked a few steps along the trail. He didn't need to hear this.

"Hi, Firewall." He mumbled. He felt his cheeks burn red.

"OK, that's enough of that. I told you that the com units are not to be used as social media. We will check in again at 2000 until then, Sci Fi out." He heard.

"This is Dixon out." He replied.

He had another two days.

End Chapter Eight

Paint it Black


	9. Chapter 9

For willwrite4fics. A semi challenge featuring Low Light in ten chapters. Each chapter will have the title of a Rolling Stones song.

The usual disclaimer: I don't own, not making a profit.

Chapter Nine

Too Much Blood

0900

Dixon slung the pack onto his back and readjusted the straps. All around him the jungle was waking up in a cacophony of chatters, chirps, and cheeps. Except for curious eyes staring down at them from the tree tops they passed by largely unseen. Now that the sun was out the morning mist became more like morning fog. Low Light walked so quietly that unless Dixon kept his eye on him he would never be able to find him by sound. His figure seemed to appear and disappear as a grey shadow.

They were walking along an old Tucaro hunting path that wound along switch backs through high jungle down into valleys running high with rivers. To Dixon the scenery around him went unchanged apart from wet to not as wet. It was disorienting.

He hoped Low Light knew where he was going.

What Dixon didn't know was that Low Light would never forget. Even after this many years he could still follow the trail. There were many more natives creeping silently along back then than there were now. The years of war, disease, and genocide left the Tucaro all but as extinct as the jaguar. The few that survived were displaced in the capital city of Rio Lindo relegated to wearing donated Western Style clothes that looked as out of place on them as it did on any Aboriginal in the world. Their eyes were as vacant and empty as a culture that had simply given up on survival. Their home was the jungle and without it they were a dying race.

At noon Low Light stopped them at an old abandoned logger' barracks. The majority was slowly becoming overgrown with jungle. The trees and vines seemed to take back what was once theirs given enough time and opportunity. The skeletons of machinery and concrete walls rotted in the sun. The main building which must have been the office was pocked with bullet holes. It gave Dixon the creeps.

Dixon sat down on the only patch of dry ground he could find and took off his boots. After this many miles and hours it felt good to take his shoes off.

Low Light blinked at him. "What are you doing?" He asked.

"I'm changing my socks." Dixon replied. He looked momentarily confused.

Along with MRE's, water, his scope, and extra supplies he threw in a brand new bag of size nine to twelve socks. It was the kind that came ten to a pack at the PX. They were still unopened.

Low Light stared at him like he suddenly grew two heads. He took one three hundred sixty degree sweep around and sat down next to him. It looked like he was going to laugh. He smiled again and shook his head. When he finally did laugh it was low and coarse like the laugh someone would do in church when they didn't want to be heard.

He shook his head again. "Damn Dixon I didn't think you would take me seriously." He snorted. He held out his hand and Dixon handed him a pair of socks. "How many do you have in there anyway?" He asked. He looked over at Dixon's pack and took a peek.

Dixon looked down in the bag. "Well, I figured two or three pairs of socks a day for three days so nine." He shrugged. "They come ten in a pack."

Low Light laughed again and changed out his socks. Their feet and toes were white and wrinkled with dampness already on the way to athlete's foot. "You know I'm going to be the first one laughing at your ass if we start getting shot at and you have to run to the LZ in your bare feet." He said. "Don't step in monkey shit!"

Until then it didn't dawn on Dixon that out here it was few and far between that they would have a chance to change their socks. As a matter of fact, he _did _take Low Light seriously. Now that he looked at it, it was laughable.

"A soldier dies with his boots on. Or in this case, clean socks." Low Light said.

He finished lacing his boots and dug through the pack for his water and a couple MRE's. He handed one to Low Light and said "I even brought a Ziploc bag." He laughed.

That brought more of that coarse laugh. It seemed like it was the first time in months the sniper had said more than a few words or sentences. Out here he was in his element. He knew what his mission was with a single minded purpose that only someone that had to focus at all times understood. He seemed more relaxed out here than he did on base. He chewed on cold beef flavored jerky something and tossed his socks out in the jungle.

"It'll give the monkeys something to do." He said.

Dixon did the same and sat back. He studied the snipers face in profile. "Low Light?" He asked.

"Yeah?"

"Why did General Hawk send us out here? If he wanted to see what was going on, why didn't he just send drones?" Dixon asked. "They take a good look around and then, boom, blow up the factory." He made the noise of an explosion as his fingers hit his palm. "Bye Bye sniper factory." He said.

Drones were a thorn in Low Light's side. They were the bane of any ground sniper. A drone didn't account for civilians or casualties. A drone didn't cover his teammate's ass when they were in the thick of it. A drone couldn't tell friend from foe or if the enemy had his hands up in surrender.

Or if the enemy just _looked_ twitchy and it was a split second decision between kill or be killed.

He could only imagine Firewall at the controls determining life or death by blips on a computer screen like it was a glorified video game.

He stared back at Dixon like he was some sort of traitor. Dixon knew that whatever time they shared before was now gone. The sniper was back to his old self: reserved, quiet, and private.

He chewed on his MRE slowly.

This was what was wrong with the younger soldiers. They thought war was a game where if they died they would just press a reset button and start over again. Out here death was as real and permanent as the jungle around them.

Low Light lifted his chin towards the jungle where a ridge could barely be seen over the trees.

"The first time I was out here was maybe fifteen or eighteen years ago. This was after El Jefe. The country was in civil war and Cobra was thick in the middle of it." He said. Dixon listened and nodded. It was what they were taught in school listening to the ravages of the rainforest. "It was me, Recondo, Stalker, and Ripcord. Recondo was our jungle warfare specialist back then with me as sniper and Stalker and Ripcord as back up. Our mission wasn't that much different than the one we're on now. That was during the rainy season when the rivers would flood. We were up to our asses in mud and Cobras."

Low Light chewed some more as he spoke. "It was right up Recondo's alley. He loved it. He knew every Tucaro village and chief in the area. The Tucaro trusted him." He looked at Dixon. "The Tucaro didn't trust anyone. Their land was being torn apart by every white man they saw. But, they trusted Recondo." He said.

"At one point me and Ripcord got separated from Recondo and Stalker. We had them in a bottle neck sandwiched about a mile further up on a ridge. Recondo and Stalker took cover in a logger's barracks. I had them in my sights with Ripcord giving cover fire when I caught a couple Python Patrol at their flank. This was before computerized scopes." He said.

The way Low Light told it seemed like it could have happened yesterday, twenty years ago, or twenty years from now

Dixon had only heard of the Python Patrol when he joined GI Joe. It wasn't something the government didn't let the public know and for good reason. They were an elite group of Cobra Troopers that wore specialized uniforms to mask their appearance to electronic equipment. If that were the case, then no drone would be able to pick them up. The troops would go in blind. He had a general idea where this was going.

"By then it was raining buckets. I could see the snakes cornering them getting ready for attack." Low Light said. "One of them targeted Recondo and the other one targeted Stalker. I saw Recondo take out his Bouie and that's when I took my shot."

He finished and looked over to where Dixon was sitting. "Right about where your head is one of mine." He said. He looked at the wall full of pock marks.

He sighed. "Recondo lives in Wisconsin with his wife and a couple kids by now but you didn't hear that from me." He added. Dan was written off as a K.I.A. by Major Bludd but still worked for General Hawk and the Joes keeping an eye on Cobra. "No drone could have made that shot."

Dixon swallowed. He knew Low Light was right. He was a sniper as well. "No. I'd rather trust my own eyes when it comes to my team." Low Light said. He felt like a dinosaur. He stood up and threw his wrapper in the bushes. "We'll stay here for a couple hours and then head out."

They were quiet for a long time after that resting up for the trek ahead. It would take them another six hours to reach the ridge Low Light described. There they would set up their snipers nest and wait until nightfall when they would begin again.

By then it was 1400 and they had been at the logger's camp for two hours. Dixon had been awake for twelve hours carrying a fully loaded pack following Low Light up the trail. He was starting to feel the effects. The nest was only a mile away on a direct route but with the terrain they had to back track slowly through the jungle. At times bamboo would hit him in the face as Low Light pushed through. If Low Light was tired he didn't show it.

He swiped at the tall grass and grasped hand over hand on clinging vines stuck to the mountain side. Through all of this if anyone could hear or see them it would be impossible. The jungle was just too thick.

Low Light stopped periodically and let Dixon catch his breath. The spotter was laid down with eighty more pounds of equipment than he was. Every forty five to sixty minutes he allowed Dixon to stop for twenty minutes and drink. If Dixon ever felt like a pack mule before then he really did now.

Compared to the last mile, the other nineteen looked like a walk in the park. That was why it made the perfect sniper's nest. Unless it was someone bound and determined to make it to the ridge, they had a one hundred and eighty degree view of their surroundings. Anyone coming up the mountainside would be seen if not heard.

When they finally eased through, Low Light crouched down on his haunches. This time Dixon did too. They were past the jungle and tall grass on an outcropping of rock overlooking the valley. To the West he could see the camp they stopped at. It seemed distant and hours away. Further down he could make out the twists and turns of the river they had followed for three hours. Somewhere beyond his eyesight was the LZ where they began close to twelve hours ago.

At one time it must have seen like a forgotten world untouched and beautiful. The sun was just beginning to set in the East and it lit up the jungle in a sparkle of green and wet capturing each dew drop. The canopy swayed and rustled in the wind like it was a living and breathing entity. The bugs and birds swirled over the top gathering their last meal for the night before roosting

It was now dusk and directly in front of them Dixon could see the Cobra weapons factory. The view would have been spectacular and worth every ache and pain in his body except for that. It looked like an abomination to nature.

It was dug into the opposite side of the mountain scarred by barbed wire and turrets. Below, the logging roads lead up to the front as if it were a bloated white worm wriggling its way to the entrance. The spotlights were just beginning to turn on and Dixon could see the blue uniformed Cobra troopers making their checks.

Up here he felt exposed as if he were a sitting target. He didn't know how they didn't see him. Low Light flattened himself on his belly and waved him forward. This was completely different than the urban sniping he had done in training and then in Kabul. He could sit in broad daylight making perimeter checks with his scope behind a wall or inside a bunker back then. Out here it felt like he had nowhere to hide. He wasn't prepared to be a night sniper.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

Low Light looked back and motioned him forward again. He elbow crawled until he was head to shoulder with the sniper. With his goggles on he could make out every detail of the Cobra uniform like the seam of a shirt or the laces of a boot. This close up he could pick and choose any target he wanted

"Relax, Dixon. They can't see you." Low Light said. It wasn't a whisper; it was just said in the low volume Low Light normally spoke with. "Take your goggles off."

After this afternoon, Dixon was hesitant. He squeezed his eyes shut and raised them up until they were sitting on his forehead. Only then did he open one eye at a half crack and then the other. When he was sure he wasn't going to puke, he blinked to clear his field of vision and looked again.

Now that it was night time, he could see what Low Light meant. Without the goggles on, the factory was just a fraction of the size and about a mile and a half away. The Cobra troopers were barely discernible. They moved about in lines he barely glimpsed. This was what normal vision was.

Without his goggles, Dixon felt blind. It had only been twelve hours but his eyes and mind were used to the different perspective. The night seemed darker. The shadows seemed blacker. The distance seemed longer. It was as if he was looking at only half the world. He missed it.

That was the way Low Light saw everything at all times.

At exactly 2000 Low Light checked in. The line was secured when Dial Tone answered. It must have been Sci Fi's night off.

"This is Low Light checking in. It is 2000. It is Low Light and Dixon. We are at the nest." He said. Low Light always said both of them in case something changed such as they were separated and the kid was lost. That way the base knew that they were together.

"Acknowledge Low Light. It is 2000. What does your little eye spy?" Dial Tone asked.

Low Light took a look through his scope. "It looks like twenty to twenty five thousand square feet surrounded by thirteen and a quarter inch concrete. It's probably reinforced with tie-in rods. To the North and South are turrets. To the West is the main entrance. I see approximately ten guards in place with another ten coming and going. There is no accounting for hostiles inside the compound. To the North is a sheer face."

"We see you Low Light and confirm." Dial Tone repeated. What Low Light could see on the ground could be seen by satellite. They needed someone in real time on the ground if General Hawk was going to coordinate this attack successfully. "We have troops in the air at 0300. We expect them at your location in twenty four hours. Stay safe and stay unseen. Dial Tone out."

"Low Light out."

Dixon was half listening to hear Firewall say something. When she didn't he couldn't say if he was disappointed or not. He didn't expect her to be on duty twenty four hours a day.

In just half a day he had learned more about being a sniper than two years of training could teach him. Now that he was out in the field on a mission, he began to understand just what the night sniper did. It was more than equations on a black board or shooting at targets. It was a sharp sense of personal control that couldn't be taught.

Dixon could feel himself changing. Regardless of what happened next he knew that when he went back to base he wouldn't be the same person as he was when he left.

Beside him Low Light was peering through his sniping rifle and doing calibrations. They would spend the rest of the night on their bellies watching the factory and checking in. Except for crawling three or five feet away to piss, this was the way he was stuck for the next two days. He tightened his eyes and opened them. Now that they were settled in, he was starting to get tired. He was on the trail for twelve hours and had another twenty four to go. Even then he didn't know how long it would take them to be extracted.

He was caught between hyper focus and boredom.

Dixon held back a yawn and exhaled. He didn't know if he would sleep or not. His body demanded it but his brain was too wound up to sleep. He did what he was trained to do. He closed his eyes even if he didn't sleep and listened to his surroundings. If he didn't know Low Light was beside him, he wouldn't know it. Even his breathing was silent.

"Why don't you get some sleep Dixon. I'll take first watch." Low Light said. The man was awake longer than he was and didn't sleep on the helicopter ride over. He didn't show it. Low Light was known to have insomnia but Dixon just accounted that as being awake at night. He always seemed awake to him. "I'll wake you at 0400."

Dixon nodded. He backed up until he was hidden in the grass. "When are you going to sleep?" He asked. Without the glare of city lights he could see every star in the sky. It was beautiful.

Ahead of him in the dark Low Light paused. "When the missions over." He said.

End Chapter Nine

Too Much Blood


	10. Chapter 10

For willwrite4fics. A semi challenge featuring Low Light in ten chapters. Each chapter will have the title of a Rolling Stones song.

The usual disclaimer: I don't own, not making a profit.

Chapter Ten

Heartbreaker (with your .44)

0400

Dixon dreamed he was following the path of the jaguar through the jungle. Where she went, he went. It was nighttime and for the first time since early this morning, his eyesight was clear. The wet of the forest made every sound and smell come to life. It was time to hunt.

They padded along silently as ghosts twisting and turning through overgrowth and into trees stalking for prey. They were out there staying equally hidden. He could smell them. All he had to do was be patient and wait. They would make a mistake and that's when they would pounce.

She was a patient teacher making subtle corrections and staying directly in sight. She would stop and wait for him to catch up the way someone that knew their way around would do with someone new. It seemed as if she knew every blade of grass, every river, and every path. The trees she marked with her claws as a warning to others.

At times they hid in the trees watching from above. From up here he could see for miles. It seemed as if nothing could escape him. There were tapir rooting around on the forest floor and monkeys with their incessant howling giving away their position. He growled at them. It came out as a deep barking cough. They wouldn't find any cover here.

With irritation he jumped down. Then just for the Hell of it he stretched and yawned. His teeth showed. They were perfect for biting through shell and bone. The killing blow would come with a piercing through the skull behind the ears and into the brain. Death would be instant and painless.

Perhaps one day he would find out what the taste of monkey was like. He gave a look back and disappeared.

They were outside of their normal hunting range on the outer skirts of the river. That was where their territory would end. A jaguar liked to swim and sometimes he would eat caiman and turtle. But he never crossed to the other side. That was where the smell of smoke came from.

There were too many strange noises. It encroached on his territory. His habitant became smaller and smaller. Soon his food supply would dwindle and he would be forced to find new hunting grounds. But it was not tonight. He was going to enjoy being at the top of the food chain. He was the apex and everything else was beneath him.

Tonight it was different. There was something else out here. He couldn't see it and he couldn't hear it but by instinct he knew it was there. And it was dangerous. He stayed close. He wanted to hide in the trees or cover in the vines. His hunger could wait another night. If she felt it she didn't give any indication. To her the jungle was the way it always had been: unchanged, recognizable and well known.

He tried to warn her but his voice was silent. She didn't hear him. She simply vanished.

And then he was alone.

The jungle that looked so familiar before now looked menacing. The vines that used to give refuge now looked thorny. The trees stretched black arms out to him. Even the monkeys were still. He felt a primal pit of fear in his stomach that nearly immobilized him. Whatever it was, it was close. And it was stalking _him_.

He stood still. He tried to see it. He tried to hear it. He tried to smell it. It was like it was invisible.

He turned too late when the jaguar attacked. He was easily two hundred and fifty pounds and deadly. He only had a chance to hold up one arm before the big cat clamped down. His jaws pinned his arm between his skull and throat. He had a moment of fight or flight where he tried to pry the cats' jaw open. The jaguar only pressed harder. His teeth sunk into his arm and his skull. He could feel the teeth pierce his flesh.

He shook his body with all of his weight squeezing further and further into Dixon's arm. In his mind he thought "Hum, so this is it. I could have fought harder." as if he were looking at himself from afar.

The jaguar shook harder. It gave a low coarse laugh.

"Dixon, wake up." He heard. Above him Low Light was shaking his arm. "Dixon, wake up. It's 0400." He said.

He immediately bolted upright. The dream was so vivid that Dixon could feel the teeth marks on his arm. He stretched and rubbed at his shoulder. He must have been sleeping on it. He felt wet with dew.

"You must have been having a good dream. You sleep like the dead." Low Light said. He snorted. Dixon couldn't tell if it was sarcasm or jealousy.

"I was asleep this whole time?" Dixon said. "Did I miss anything?" He asked.

"Yeah about eight hours. The grass must be comfortable." Low Light said. He was looking across at him through his goggles. Dixon couldn't read his expression. "You didn't miss anything except a few Cobras changing guards. That's about it. I expect that they'll be more active during the day." He said.

"I'm going to check in and then you're going to take over. Get your goggles on." Low Light said.

Dixon nodded and reached for his goggles. Now that he had them on, he felt oddly comfortable. It was like he could see like the jaguar. The spotlights around the compound gave a harsh halo against the black but even at the dead of night, he could see everything that was going on.

In the distance the weapons factory was quiet.

"This is Low Light checking in. It is Low Light and Dixon. It is 0400." He heard Low Light say.

There was a pause where Dixon didn't know if anyone would reply until Dial Tone came on the line. "Acknowledged Low Light. It is 0400. What is your report." He said.

"All's quiet on the Western Front." Low Light said. It was a reference to the book. "We still have activity coming and going from the entrance to the compound. I did not see any civilians. Whatever civilians there are must work during the day. Optimal attack without collateral damage is post midnight. The crew consists of ten guards at a stationary position, with an additional ten at the perimeter. There is no accounting for hostiles inside." Low Light said.

"Agreed Low Light. What is your recommendation?" Dial Tone replied.

"To achieve best results I would suggest a night attack at approximately 0300 to 0500." Low Light said.

Any soldier or policeman will tell you that most raids happen between 3 AM and 5 AM. That is when the enemy is at its most vulnerable. The ones that were awake were lulled by boredom whereas the ones that were asleep would be taken by surprise. That was when the factory would be the quietest and the few Cobras left on the property would be hit in the middle of the night. No one would see them coming.

"I trust your report and will relay it to General Hawk." Dial Tone said. "The next check in will be at 1200 hours. Dial Tone out."

"Next check in at 1200 hours" Low Light repeated. "Low Light out."

He looked at Dixon. The two men sat on the ridge overlooking the Cobra factory. One had red crystallized goggles on with twists of blond curls showing and a scruff of morning beard. He was slightly older and taller than the other one. His whole body said 'alert'.

The younger one had the same type of goggles on but even without a helmet on it was hard to tell what color his hair was. He was two inches shorter and twenty pounds lighter. He looked at the older man as if he were waiting for instructions.

Even from a distance anyone could tell which one was in charge.

Low Light sighed and pulled his goggles down. After this many years he took his time to let his eyes adjust to the night. Even now he had to acclimate to it slowly. If done too suddenly it would make him spin. His pupils felt dilated to the size of quarters. He took a look around.

The jungle looked remote and threatening without his usual sight. Everywhere he turned he felt like there was a shadow lurking at the periphery of his vision. While his eyes got accustomed to his surroundings, his hearing and sense of smell became more acute. The senses had a way of compensating that way.

Beside him Dixon was watching. The man really did have grey eyes. They weren't blue or light blue and they weren't hazel. They truly were grey. It was the first time Dixon had seen him without his goggles. From this point of view he looked human and vulnerable without the typical gear on. It was like seeing someone for the first time.

He rubbed his hand over his face.

This was the hardest part. This was the time he would be forced to sleep. Low Light was already awake for thirty hours. He knew he had to be alert for the night time attack. He didn't want to sleep. Not now. Not with Dixon here.

His circle of people he could trust he could count on one hand. It was Life Line, Doc, Beachhead, Snake Eyes, and Hawk. This new kid was the one that had to watch him for the next six to eight hours. He didn't know if he could do it. He paused and looked at Dixon.

He didn't know if he could trust him.

It was 0500.

He opened and closed his mouth. Dixon was already looking out at the perimeter.

He cleared his throat. "I'm going to get some sleep. If anything happens, wake me up. If I say anything, wake me up. If I start moving, wake me up. If there's anything going on, wake me up. As a matter of fact, just wake me up." He said. He didn't like the way he sounded helpless when he was asleep. That was the worst part of it.

When he was asleep he didn't have control.

Dixon looked over his shoulder. Thankfully the kid was too involved in watching the factory to say much of anything. That was a relief.

Low Light backed up and made his own small snipers' nest. The grass he could lay on comfortably and the pack he could put his head on. He threw his arm over his eyes and repeated his mantra. "It's in your mind. It's in your mind. It's in your mind."

This time it didn't work. It was 0600 and then 0700 and then 0800 and he was still awake. The sun was coming up in a fog that clung to his body. Even though they were at the equator, they were in the high jungle and the altitude made the mist a chill that went through his bones.

He gave up and crawled to Dixon's position.

His body was stiff from the wet. He was getting too old for this shit.

"Report Dixon." He said. "Is anything going on?"

It was more or less to say something to explain why he was awake than anything else.

Dixon looked over. "There is nothing to report Low Light. The perimeter is secured at one and a quarter miles. There has been some activity outside of the walls but nothing that could be seen as important." He said.

Low Light nodded. "Very good. The next check in is as 1200 hours. Don't forget." He said. He backed up and laid down looking up at the sky. This time he concentrated on the cicadas with their "reeee" of their back legs in a lullaby that only happened once every seventeen years.

It came as one two three, reeee. One two three reeee. Until Low Light finally nodded off.

His dream wasn't all that different than the other times. What other dream could he have growing up as the son of a garbage man in Crosby North Dakota. Everyone knew who and what he was. He didn't have a mother that he knew of. She left a long time ago. In a lot of ways he was a lot like Beachhead: redneck white trash. Only Beachhead was probably high class compared to him.

In school everyone knew who he was. Outside of school he was subject to whatever mood his father was in. He was caught in a world where he didn't want to go to and a world where he had to go to.

And in between was the dark. And the rats. And the monsters.

Low Light twitched. It was like an electrical shock to the left side of his body. His left hand grasped for an imaginary weapon and his left leg kicked out. Then he was still. Dixon looked over but by that time Low Light was quiet.

He looked like he was just dreaming.

Dixon went back to watching the factory.

And that was when the talking began. It started as talking. Anyone that knew him knew enough that this was the pivotal moment when he had to be woken up. It started out as low mumbles in a conversation that grew more and more heated as the time wore on. That was when the twitches became more like convulsions.

He would mumble in his sleep and hit at the ground pulling on the tall grass with pulls and moans that Dixon thought the enemy could hear.

Until now he knew the night sniper was an insomniac but he had no idea that he suffered from night terrors.

He reached a hand out.

Low Light sat up so fast that Dixon fell back on his feet. He wasn't expecting that. The night sniper had his hands out in front of him and his mouth wide open.

"They're crawling. You have to stop them from crawling. They're crawling. Can't you see?" He said.

Dixon immediately went to his scope. The base looked like it always looked like. He couldn't see anything different. "I don't see anyone crawling, Low Light, It looks the same to me. Where are they?" He asked.

As much as he looked he couldn't tell anything different. He looked back at Low Light, The sniper was sitting straight up adamant. "I just don't see it!" Dixon said. It was a hiss through his teeth.

He looked in an arc that would give him the best view taking his time to check for any variables. There were none. "I don't see it!" He whispered.

He looked back at Low Light. His eyes were glazed and his body was rigid. Whatever he was seeing wasn't what Dixon was seeing. He passed his hand in front of his eyes. Low Light didn't blink. That was when Dixon realized he was asleep. He sat back in almost relief. Where once he was on high alert, his body relaxed and let his mind go at ease.

His instant of panic turned into a slow and steady drum.

So this is what everyone talked about.

If he hadn't seen it for himself, he would have never believed it.

He didn't know what to do.

Thankfully he didn't have to make that decision. As suddenly as Low Light was sitting up he fell back down in the grass and went back to sleep.

By then it was 1200 hours and he had to make his check. "This is Dixon checking in. It is 1200 hours. There is some activity reported between the entrance and the Eastern Wall. There are approximately twenty guards coming and going from the entrance with big machinery being checked in." He said.

This time he heard Main Frame. "Is Low Light with you?" He asked.

Shit. He forgot to say.

"Yes, this is Dixon reporting in. It is me and Low Light. The factory appears benign. I do not see any civilians in the area." He said.

He heard the com unit scrape and then some static. There was a gap between people handing off and then General Hawk. "Understood Dixon. Get Low Light on the line." He said.

"Yes, Sir!" Dixon said.

He shook Low Light awake with an assorted muffle until he told him it was General Hawk. The sniper was instantly awake. "This is Low Light reporting in General Hawk." He said. He blinked in the sun and looked at his watch. His eyes tried to focus on the time until he could get a good reading. It must have been 1200 hours. He was asleep for less than four hours.

"Report, Low Light." General Hawk said.

He looked at Dixon and then at his surroundings. He gradually eased his goggles back on. It was as Dixon said.

"The base is secured General Hawk. Except for low level personnel any and all civilians are accounted for. I estimate less than a dozen kills with the rest being brought in peacefully." He said. He peered into his scope and squeezed his eye shut. He was still half asleep and the sun was like the eye of God looking at him through the lens. "ETA twelve hours."

"And how many will be kill shots?" General Hawk asked. That meant that Low Light had the responsibility of taking care of any guards that would interfere with the ground troops.

Low Light passed his sniping rifle along the Cobra sniper rifle factory. The guards were unaware that they were being accounted for. They went along with their duties like they normally did ignorant of the Death from Above waiting and watching them.

It took less than a minute. "I expect less than four and at the maximum six kill shots, General Hawk." He said.

That was how he kept it separate. He never thought of them as people. They were only kill shots. Low Light never looked past that. It would be dangerous territory if he went there.

He lay down on his belly and looked in his scope.

"Pleased to meet you. Hope you guessed my name." He whispered.

He lined up his shot.

End Chapter Ten

Heartbreaker (with your .44)

To tigerwolfspellbear: The jaguar scene


	11. Chapter 11

For willwrite4fics. A semi challenge featuring Low Light in ten chapters. Each chapter will have the title of a Rolling Stones song.

The usual disclaimer: I don't own, not making a profit.

Chapter Eleven

5 Part Jam, Part 1

1800

General Hawk handed the com back to Dial Tone. It wasn't that he didn't trust the spotter. His assessment of the situation was right. Low Light confirmed it. He just wasn't battle tested. General Hawk had to make absolutely sure that the information was correct before he could justify a night time op three thousand miles away from home in a foreign country. And that meant Low Light. He would trust his night sniper before he would trust a greenshirt out on his first mission.

Already his troops were gearing up for battle. It was that time between excitement and anxiety. Even the senior Joe's felt it. That was when the rotors of the Chinook echoed in the background. The Pit was coming to life. Pretty soon each squadron would be armed and ready to go.

Each Chinook carried fifteen to twenty men. Duke led the first flank and Flint led the second just as planned. It was a mixture between seasoned Joe's and greenshirts. On Duke's team was Beachhead and Cover Girl. General Hawk couldn't trust Beachhead being on the same team as Flint without a disagreement. Too much was riding on it. On Flint's team was Snake Eyes and Scarlet. They weren't expecting any casualties. Not on a mission this routine. He had no doubt it would be a success.

He gave the word.

In the jungles of Sierra Gordo Low Light and Dixon waited until nightfall. Low Light was only asleep for four hours but now he had to be awake and alert. He made a sweep of the area and backed up. He stretched so hard that Dixon could hear each vertebrae pop and strain. He yawned until Dixon could almost count teeth. Then he was awake. They still had another twelve hours to go. To Dixon it seemed like a lifetime.

Low Light sat back and took something out of his pocket and dry swallowed. "Provigil." He explained.

That was one thing about the United States Military; they came up with the best pills. In the 50's and 60's it was Abby Hoffman and LSD. In the 70's it was pot and heroin shipped all the way from the Golden Triangle of Burma, Laos, and Thailand. In the 80's it was cocaine from Columbia and the war on drugs. In the 90's it was ecstasy.

In between time there was an endless supply of naïve young men that swallowed whatever Uncle Sam told them.

Low Light shrugged and took it all in stride. It kept people like him awake or pilots that needed to make long overseas flights. The last thing the Government needed was a sleepy fighter pilot. Or sniper.

If Dixon was curious he didn't show it. Right now he was avoiding him. As much as he could avoid him, that is. With only five square feet to move around in it was difficult. He wouldn't meet his eyes. Low Light had a general idea why. Whatever happened when he was asleep he couldn't remember. He sighed and set his M110 down in the grass.

He looked at Dixon. "What?" He said.

Dixon was messing around with his spotting scope. The calculations for distance and slant range would change dramatically once the sun went down. Whatever mil dot related calculation he was coming up with was obsolete.

"Dixon." Low Light said.

His spotter didn't look up. "I didn't say anything." He said.

"Then maybe you should." Low Light said. If Dixon was going to be his spotter then he was basically Low Light's apprentice. Even though Dixon had earned his Sniper Tab it was still his first mission. He was still in training.

It wouldn't be the last time Dixon would be sent out with him. Not by a long shot. Low Light had five years to teach Dixon everything he knew. It didn't seem long enough. He just wasn't ready to give it up just yet.

As a team a sniper and spotter were sent behind enemy lines or in the vague area of no man's land. It was imperative that the two communicated effectively. It didn't mean they had to be best friends but they _did_ have to get along. They had to watch each others' back. There was no one else to do it for them.

Low Light put his hand on the scope and eased it down until they were eye to eye.

"Spit it out." He said.

Dixon inhaled slowly. Even with his goggles on he knew Low Light was staring at him. It was unnerving. He exhaled. He might as well come straight out with it. He stopped and rubbed at the back of his neck. "There're some rumors going on around base about what you do when you're asleep. They say you can get pretty bad. They say you've stabbed a couple of your roommates and that's why you're stuck with Beachhead." He said. If this one was true Dixon had to wonder if the other ones were true, too. He was afraid to ask.

This time he looked up. "You talk in your sleep. And more." He said.

Low Light nodded. "That rumor is true at least." He said. "Not the stabbing part but the sleeping part."

"I mean you sat straight up like you were awake!" Dixon said. He threw his hands up in the air. "I didn't know. I couldn't tell the difference." He finally met his eyes. "Does General Hawk know?"

"Yeah, Hawk knows." Low Light shrugged. "The majority of the time I keep it under control. You don't have to worry about being stabbed in your sleep." He snorted. "If it makes you that uncomfortable you can ask for a transfer request. Maybe Hawk will put you with Janack or Adams. If not" He paused "I know some pretty damn good snipers around the bases that could probably use a spotter. I'll ask around."

"No!" Dixon said. "I mean, no. You don't have to do that Low Light." He added.

If he missed this opportunity he would be shooting at targets for the rest of his life. The man himself said he had it under control. And he was already being evaluated by Psyche Out. If that meant the guy was bat shit crazy then it didn't show. In the field Low Light was steady as a rock. He was the best night sniper in the Joe's. He couldn't let this chance pass him up.

"Good. Then since we seem to understand each other you should get some shut eye. Things are going to get hot in about eight hours. I need you alert to take those shots." Low Light said. Dixon didn't ask if Low Light had to be alert. He picked up his sniping rifle and peered through it. To Dixon that was about as much of a dismissal as he was going to get.

He lay down and looked at the sky. It was his first mission and he was already fucking things up.

At midnight Low Light woke him up. It was amazing to him that the kid seemed to be able to go to sleep at the drop of a hat anywhere, anytime, and any place. That was good. In a few hours Dixon would be tested. He needed the rest.

As it turned out Low Light didn't have to worry. Dixon was too wound up. He kept checking and rechecking through his spotting scope. They both agreed that the first ones down would be the guards at the turrets. Those were simple kills. The other two towards the entrance were the tricky ones. Low Light's shot had to count. He wouldn't get a second chance.

This was all standard operating procedure to Low Light. The majority of the time he was by himself. He was the judge, jury, and executioner at eighteen hundred yards. Some soldiers were fundamentally opposed to the role of sniper. To them it took away the humanity of the kill. If a life was going to be taken then it should be done up close and personal.

To Low Light any advantage that he could give his team was enough. He called it evening the odds.

The first Chinook came up through the Northern sheer face where the factory was the least protected. It hovered twenty to thirty feet in the air blowing a circle on the ground below and shaking the barbed wire fence. It had its spotlights on making sweeps in the dark. With their lights on the guards were temporarily blinded when the first squad zip-lined down.

They were dressed all in black with masks covering their faces. When they landed they landed as a unit somehow knowing which target to go after and which ones to ignore. They spread out in a half walk, half run crouch with guns raised and ready. In the front was a man similar in build as Duke leading the way. Without knowing it he could see Beachhead and Cover Girl at the rear giving suppressing fire over the greenshirts. It was like watching one of his drills. He kept an eye on every team member herding them like ducks to the safest place.

It was go-time.

Dixon could feel his heart hammer as he spotted. The first guard was the one most easily acquired when he gave the command.

'Send it." He said.

He heard a small pfffffffttttttt next to him and watched the vapor trail running towards its target. He could actually see where the bullet was headed through his spotting scope. At speeds close to two thousand feet per second the guard never had a chance. He slumped forward just as Duke reached firing range.

"That's a hit." He said.

"No shit." Low Light replied. He had a half grin on his face.

There wasn't any time for talk before Dixon was targeting the second guard. Experienced teams could make one shot, one kill every ten to fifteen seconds. They had less than a minute to take care of the rest of the guards. The Joe's were counting on it.

Now that the Joe's were inside of the compound Dixon had to take extra care that they weren't in the way. His calculations came at a split second.

"Send it." He said.

"Hit it." Low Light confirmed.

Like the first guard the second one slumped over as easily as a puff of wind. It was only at one point he was standing and the next one he was down. That was how fast it was.

It seemed like it was going to be a success after all. Now that it came down to it he and Low Light were working like a well oiled machine. Dixon smiled. He couldn't deny that the feeling was exhilarating.

"Two confirmed." He said.

"Acknowledged. Two confirmed. Awaiting targets three and four." Low Light said. The whole thing had taken less than thirty seconds and left the ground team with an opening towards the entrance. Dixon could see them advancing the attack.

The second Chinook came up over the trees towards the main entrance. It appeared so suddenly that the birds that were previously roosting took to the sky in a blanket of frightened wings. Dixon's visibility was shot to zero. Everywhere he spotted was a beak and a claw.

"Shit."

"Targets three and four Dixon. Any day now." Low Light said. He was dependent on the spotter for the shot. He was going in blind.

Unfortunately so was Dixon.

By now the Cobra Troopers were mobilizing in a defensive position to hold their line at the front gate. The third and fourth targets were somewhere past their range obscured by black feathers. Through his goggles he could see the furthest guard running towards the entrance. He took a deep breath and concentrated. Once in his sights he didn't want to lose him.

"You have a runner. Accounting for" He said "Thirty degrees and one and a quarter miles."

'Acknowledged. Thirty degrees and one and a quarter miles. Are you sure Dixon?" Low Light asked.

"Send it." Dixon replied.

He didn't have time for doubts. He had to trust his gut. Beside him he felt more than heard Low Light pull the trigger. There was no hesitation. He had to trust Dixon to send his bullet where it was supposed to go. He couldn't miss.

The guard nearly made it before his knees buckled. He seemed to hold his gun in the air and fall forward in slow motion. His body lay sprawled in the middle of running feet and panicked yells. He didn't move.

"Hit it." Low Light said.

From here Dixon could watch the attack from the relative safety of the sniper's nest. With his goggles on he could see every detail as it happened. Squad one was on the right flank squeezing the Cobra Troopers between them. Squad two was on the left side encircling whatever guards were left. Dixon had never seen an attack executed so precisely.

He was in awe.

He knew the Joe's were the best of the best but watching them in action never prepared him for what it was really like. And he was a part of it.

"Target four Dixon." Low Light said.

He snapped back to attention. In the brief moment that Dixon spent watching the attack he lost track of his fourth target. He made a sweep of the ground moving from left to right in consecutive lines when a black blur blocked his view. From out of nowhere Snake Eyes cut through the chaos. He moved so fast that Dixon couldn't keep up. He made another sweep and another and another. All he could see was the sparks from the ninja's sword.

Snake Eyes was moving between him and his target getting ready to engage. He grit his teeth. If the commando was in the way they would have to hold their shot. He squeezed his eyes shut to focus and concentrated on the scene in front of him. When he opened them again Snake Eyes was caught in a hand to hand combat with his target. It was a deadly opening. For each turn and kick there was a fraction of a second where the guard was directly in his sights. He couldn't have coordinated it any better than if it were a dance. Kick, hit, and turn. The rhythm didn't stop.

He adjusted for the degrees and speed. "Send it."

Low Light stopped. Dixon barely noticed. He was keeping an eye on Snake Eyes with each hit.

"Send it." He said again.

Low Light growled. For each punch Snake Eyes was giving the target was moving further and further back. If he made it past his field of vision they would lose their chance.

"Send. It." Dixon said.

Low Light took the shot.

It looked at first like the target was going to give Snake Eyes a bear hug. That was when he slumped to the ground. The ninja looked up as if he could see Dixon hidden there. He had an instant where he thought Snake Eyes was staring directly at him through his visor. He didn't pause before he was onto the next trooper.

The Cobra guards were overwhelmed. By sheer numbers and experience the Joe's outmaneuvered them at every turn. They were being corralled between two superior forces and the entrance of the factory. With their lack of leadership and training it was like watching boy scouts versus the Army. Most of the guards chose self preservation over duty and gave up.

Those were the ones with their hands in the air kneeling at Flint and Duke's feet. One was grabbed by the shoulders and taken to the entrance. That was where Low Light and Dixon lost them. It was frustrating being blind. They couldn't cover them now.

The entire assault lasted fifteen minutes before the Joe's had them subdued. For Low Light and Dixon their part had taken three days and less than a minute. Below them Flint, Duke, Beachhead, and Scarlet were forming the prisoners in lines of four with two greenshirts guarding each line.

Dixon sighed and sat up. He slowly pulled his goggles from his face waiting until his eyes could adapt. It was almost sunrise.

The past forty-eight hours were starting to take its toll. The eye strain alone left Dixon with a headache. He could feel the beginnings of muscle twitches under his left eye. It jumped uncontrollably at odd intervals that didn't make any sense. It was like having a face spasm.

In the grass next to him Low Light crouched down. They both blinked like newborn babies on their birthday. In the background they could hear the remnants of small arms fire and echoed commands. Beside him Low Light was eating breakfast like it was the most natural thing in the world. He handed one to Dixon.

"Don't you ever fucking do that to me again." He said. "You got lucky this time. This isn't the Wild Wild West. We don't take trick shots."

Even with goggles on Low Light knew how to glare.

"It wasn't a trick shot. I had him in my sights." Dixon said back. If he knew one thing he knew his sights were true. He would have never given the command if he wasn't sure. "We got him."

"No, _I _got him." Low Light hissed. Somehow in the small space he was making it even smaller. "It's _my _bullet that makes the hit. It's _my _responsibility. It's one shot one kill every time I pull the trigger. You better made damn sure you're on target. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I understand." Dixon said. He was less intimidated than he was angry. He knew what he saw. He looked away before he said something he would regret.

He was saved when the Chinook dropped its lines to the ground. Low Light busied himself securing his sniping rifle while Dixon packed his scope and supplies. At least he didn't have to hoof it down to base. He was done being Low Light's beast of burden. The asshole could carry his own socks for all he cared.

He sat awkwardly next to Low Light until they set down. Now that the battle was over it was their job to help secure the area. Low Light went directly to the factory where Snake Eyes, Beachhead, Duke, and Scarlet were standing. He wanted to know what they found inside.

Low Light didn't make it three feet before Scarlet came striding up. It didn't take his sharp eyes to see she was pissed. Before he knew it she reached back and hit him full force in the jaw. One thing about Scarlet is she didn't hold her punches. He saw spots before he could gather himself. That would leave a mark.

OK so he deserved that.

She was getting ready for another hit before Snake Eyes stopped her. He grabbed her wrist before she yanked it back with a look that could kill. He was covered in the blood of the guard he shot. She stalked off before she could throw her second punch.

*It's OK.* Snake Eyes signed. He made sure to go very slowly. *I wouldn't have let you shoot me*

That was Snake Eyes. He said things like '_let _you shoot me'.

Low Light nodded and rubbed his jaw. If anyone was going to take the fall it would be him. Ultimately he was the one at the trigger. They didn't have to know about Dixon. Not yet. As far as they knew he was just another low grunt Low Light had to hold by the hand on his first mission. It would take years for the Joe's to trust him. By then Low Light would have him trained. Maybe.

He walked past and into the factory. Inside there were various sniping rifles in a state of assembly or disassembly. There had to be at least five thousand sniping rifles packed in crates ready to ship. On each square box the M.A.R.S. logo was burned in a stamp across the top.

Dixon whistled. "Whoa. Have you ever seen so much fire power in one spot?" He said.

Low Light grunted. This is what they came here for.

End Chapter Eleven

5 Part Jam, Part 1

More Snake Eyes especially for tigerwolf.

Thank you for reading. Gracias por leer. Obrigado pela leitura. Vielen Dank für das Lesen. आप पढ़ने के लिए धन्यवाद.

KSlycke


	12. Chapter 12

For willwrite4fics. A semi challenge featuring Low Light in ten chapters. Each chapter will have the title of a Rolling Stones song.

The usual disclaimer: I don't own, not making a profit.

Chapter Twelve

Pay Your Dues

0600

P.J. Knight was a short amiable man that smoked big cigars he handed out to the Joe's. When he stepped out of his private helicopter it wasn't his stature that gave him away. It was the way he carried himself. As soon as he was inside the factory he took control. His men followed each order and command as the word of law.

For each tenth crate that was opened P.J. Knight personally handled one sniping rifle. He peered through the sights and checked the balance. The M.A.R.S. sniping rifles were exceptionally light weight without losing durability. Their barrel accepted standard NATO .308's. The man knew his rifles. He had to. It was his business to know.

Low Light and Dixon watched as the private Army tore open the crates of sniping rifles. Each one was inspected carefully before it was labeled and tagged for transport. The M.A.R.S. brand was busy building a bon fire out in the open area of the factory by the prisoners. Through it all they could see the businessman giving orders. The flames sent a shadow across the walls that made him look larger than life.

He nodded at his men and walked up to General Hawk. He had a wide smile on his face.

"General Hawk." He said. "Congratulations on another job well done! I couldn't have pulled it off better if I did it myself!" He laughed. He took a cigar out of his pocket and bit the end off. He lit it with the flames that were burning the M.A.R.S. logo. He offered one to General Hawk.

General Hawk waved it down. He stood a good three feet taller than the businessman with a reserve that commanded respect. The Joe's stood watching at a distance. Most of them were weary and tired from the middle of the night attack and until now didn't truly understand what their mission was really about. It was beginning to dawn on them.

P.J. Knight took a look around. In front of him was the factory. Behind him were transport teams waiting to ship the M.S.R.S. rifles over land. The gates with its concertina wire stood open with a dozen armored diesels waiting to be loaded.

In the front was Cover Girl. If anyone could drive a convoy of weapons across the jungle and into the United States it was her. Beside her Beachhead sat in the passenger seat. They didn't look happy.

P.J. Knight signaled to them and they started up. It would be a long slow crawl from the Yucatan into Texas and then into Florida. Cover Girl gave a salute as she passed by and revved the transport into the ground.

Knight stopped and looked at General Hawk. He had to shout over the engines.

"Well, to the victor go the spoils wouldn't you say General Hawk?" He laughed. "I assure you that these puppies will make it home to the good old U.S. of A. There will never be M.A.R.S. weapons on the Joe team if I can help it." He said. "Not unless Destro wants to admit that he's in bed with those Cobra bastards. And he's too smart for that.

Knight Armament and M.A.R.S. were close competitors in the arms race. It wasn't a secret that they would sabotage and steal each others' prototype weapons. It was a rivalry that went back decades like a dangerous game of chess. This time it was P.J. Knight that won.

He grinned.

"I have to admit that these sniping rifles are the best I've seen in years. And thanks to my newly acquired inventory it's amazing how fast we can have them out in production. That should piss that old Scottish son of a bitch off." He snapped his fingers towards Low Light and Dixon.

They stared at him.

"Low Light. Dixon. Up front." General Hawk said. He waved them to come forward. He looked just as tired as his troops. It was a long week of Intel and negotiations behind closed doors to get this far but the Joe's didn't need to know that.

Low Light walked up with his sniping rifle in hand. Behind him Dixon stood at his left side. They saluted to General Hawk but otherwise stayed quiet. Hawk assumed it was from fatigue. They looked like they had been run through the wringer.

Knight took one look at the M110 in Low Light's hand and smiled. Low Light didn't return it. "Well now you can get rid of that antique and have a true weapon." He said. "Here have this one as a gift of gratitude. You served your country well, son."

Low Light didn't move but glanced over at General Hawk. There were unspoken words between them. He waited.

For a while P.J. Knight stood in silence with the Cobra rifle in his hand. "They say you're the best sniper on the Joe's if not the world." He said. "You can get this baby to three miles then there's always a job for you on my team." He grinned. He reached inside his pocket for a business card. By habit Dixon reached out. Low Light walked away.

He stared at Hawk. "Not a real talker is he?" He said.

"Low Light might not talk much but he is the best there is." Hawk said. "He's also loyal." The look he gave was 'hand off!'.

Knight ignored it and handed Dixon the rifle. "Hey if your friend there changes his mind you can give him this one. It's a beauty." He said. "It's real state of the art technology."

Knight handed Dixon the prototype and brushed it off. He had business to attend to and moody snipers weren't a part of it. Pretty soon he was back commanding his Army and coordinating the lift off from Sierra Gordo to Florida where the sniping rifles would be re-labeled and sold as Knight Armament.

Dixon nodded once and looked behind him where Low Light was standing against the wall. The sniper was the epitome of exhaustion. Someone had brought him an ice pack for his jaw. The bruise worked its way up from his jaw to his cheekbone where it stopped at his goggles. Underneath Dixon knew his eyes were as black and blue as Scarlet's punch.

"Permission to be excused General Hawk." He said. The General nodded. He looked behind him and walked over.

Now that it was over the last thing Dixon wanted to do was be around the sniper. They had spent the last three days solely together. It was enough. He handed him the Cobra rifle. "He gave this to me to give to you." Dixon said.

Low Light waved it off. "You keep it. You'll have to learn to shoot it eventually." He said. "It's a good rifle." He took the opportunity to slide down the wall and sit down. He held his rifle across his knees and bowed his head.

He sighed. "Never let go of it. Not even if Law catches you."

In his hands was the M110 SASS. It was what he was used to and would probably use for the rest of his life.

Dixon was surprised. The Cobra rifle was lighter and had a shorter barrel than Low Light's. He just didn't know if he could trust a weapon made by M.A.R.S. It was like the Kalashnikov to the M110. He knew it was a superior weapon but it came from the enemy. He stared at it.

A spotter often carried a sniping rifle, a scope, and an assault weapon. That was the standard gear. They were the trainees of a sniper and it showed. For Dixon he carried all three. He never expected to have one of his own. It was a surreal experience. Somewhere along the way he had earned the right to carry a sniping rifle. He held onto it as if at any moment he expected Low Light to change his mind.

All this time he assumed Low Light thought he was an idiot. He knew he messed up too many times on this mission. He couldn't figure it out but he didn't question it.

He sat down next to Low Light. He still had his goggles on but Dixon had them up and over his head. It was daybreak and the light hurt his eyes. It wouldn't be much longer before they were ordered to a transport on their way back to base. It was back to waiting.

Next to him Low Light started to breath deeper and slower. It was the only indication that he was asleep. His breath came at a steady pace without the usual mumbling and twitches he was known for. Other people would think he was just resting. Dixon kept watch. He decided to let him sleep.

Low Light was awake for close to eighteen hours. Before that he only slept for four hours. Now that it was over with he let himself slide into peace. He made a mumble that Dixon almost warned him about. He was getting used to him. Now that he understood it Low Light didn't seem as mysterious and scary as the rumors said he was.

He felt more like a protector than anything else.

In the compound P.J. Knight and General Hawk barked orders. Dixon and Low Light were spared the running around by sitting in a corner away from everyone else. The prisoners were separated and placed on different flights on their way to Leavenworth or Blackwater. There they would be tried and convicted as terrorists.

That was when General Hawk saw him.

His boots made a commanding sound as he walked towards them. Dixon jumped up before the familiar brown and tan size thirteen's hit his view. He stood at attention with his rifle in hand. At his feet Low Light was sleeping.

The General paused for a moment. He looked over at Dixon and Low Light. The two were essential to their success. He nodded at Dixon and passed by. The sniper could sleep without worrying about protocol for now. The General had other things to do than worry about who did or didn't salute his stars and bars.

At 0900 Dixon was sitting safely in the jump seat of a cargo helicopter on his way back to The Pit. Low Light was still asleep. He sat with his arms crossed and his chin on his chest like he was deep in thought. He looked up once when the sound of the factory explosion hit them but other than that he didn't move. Below them the orange and yellow of jungle fire glowed as the helicopter took off. For all intents and purposes the M.A.R.S. factory didn't exist.

Neither did their mission.

Low Light woke up from time to time on the flight but for the most part he was sound asleep. It was the easiest way to travel. Sleep during the flight and wake up when they got home. He needed it. When he got back to base he would take a Sonata and not worry about being interrupted by Beachhead and Cover Girl riding two thousand miles away.

They were a hundred miles away from home when Low Light finally woke up. He lifted his head and yawned. Then he remembered the giant bruise on his jaw and winced. That little souvenir from Scarlet would take a week or more to get over. He looked at his watch. He had been asleep for a solid eight hours. Beside him Dixon still had the Cobra rifle in his hands. He wondered if the kid took him seriously about the rifle as he did the socks. The other greenshirts he didn't recognize. None of them were looking at him funny. So far so good that was a good sign. It must have meant he slept for once.

He was wide awake and hungry. They would be just in time for dinner if the pilot kept his pace up. He seemed to be in just as much of a hurry as the soldiers.

The closer they got the more familiar landmarks of the Utah desert became. The greenshirts started talking among themselves. Their conversation became louder and louder until it echoed in the cargo hold. Low Light and Dixon didn't have much to say. Even when one of the greenshirts would ask it was followed by a one word answer. Snipers were weird that way. They belonged to their own private club. Eventually they gave up. It seemed like Dixon was going to forget about them now that he was back.

For Dixon it wasn't that he didn't have anything to say. It was that he didn't know _what _to say. AS he listened to them their conversation seemed vapid and foreign to him. He couldn't think of anything to add.

For Low Light it was a reflection of twenty years of silence and solitude. The quiet became part of the territory. Whatever social skills he might have had before were gone. He simply forgot how to be sociable. It was part of who he was now.

When they touched down the greenshirts automatically let Low Light and Dixon out first. That was the pecking order. It was the senior Joe, the spotter, and then the greenshirts. After three days and a ten hour flight it was good to feel concrete beneath their feet. For the first time they didn't feel wet, damp, or moldy. Low Light took the time to stretch his arms over his head and get his feet under him. He didn't pause before he was walking to the base. He didn't look back.

Dixon watched for a while and then grabbed his pack. He had no doubt in his mind that it was the last time he would be paired with the sniper. Low Light was probably headed to file a report listing all of the ways Dixon was a fuck up. He hefted his bag and walked back to the barracks. He desperately wanted to get rid of the heavy pack and get something hot to eat. Everything else could wait.

When he made it to the mess hall Firewall was waving frantically at the table motioning him over. She had a smile on her face. He waved but other than that his mind was on food. Whatever was cooking smelled like nirvana. Dixon didn't know if it was because he had to eat MRE's for the past three days or if the dinner was really that good. Whichever one it was he didn't wait to find out. He took his spot and waited in line.

Today it was Roadblock. That explained a lot. The enormous machine gunner was also the Pits best cook. Everyone looked forward to it when he was in the kitchen. The line stretched towards the door. That was when Low Light walked in. He was a little bit more cleaned up with fresh clothes on but he still had his M110 in his hand. He didn't bother waiting in line. He made his way towards Roadblock.

"Hey you can't do that."

"Yeah no cutting in line."

"I was next."

Low Light ignored them. It was lasagna night, he was hungry, and right now he didn't care what people said.

"Hey did you hear me?" The first greenshirt said. He must have been feeling brave to reach out and tap him on the shoulder.

That was when Low Light turned around.

It was right when Shipwreck walked up and shoved the greenshirt aside. "Yes as a matter of fact, he _can _cut in line kid." He said. "See we have this unwritten rule where grunts like you that have been sitting on your ass all week sleeping in a warm bed can take their fucking turn. Smiley here's been slopping in mud and eating bugs for breakfast. So yeah, he can go first. Capiche?"

He was backed up by Gung Ho, Heavy Duty, and Stalker before he it could escalate. None of the greenshirts wanted to go up against them. Roadblock smiled wide dropping a larger than normal portion on his plate. "Welcome back Low Light. How was the camping trip?" He asked.

Low Light shrugged. "It was alright." He said. "There were only four."

"We saw that on Sat." Stalker said. He meant that they could watch them on satellite as the action happened. "That was one Helluva shot you took." He shook his head when he said it.

Low Light groaned. "That wasn't me. That was Dixon. He thinks he's a trick shot." He said.

"Ah Jesus did you just call him Trick Shot?" Shipwreck said. "You know once you name 'em you have to keep 'em." He said.

He yelled across the mess. "Hey! Trick Shot! You! No not you! Yeah, you!" He pointed to Dixon and waved him over.

Dixon looked behind him and then pointed at himself. Shipwreck had his arm in the air. "Jesus kid just get your ass up here." He said.

He walked slowly up. It seemed like every greenshirt was staring at him. He stood uncomfortably next to Low Light as Roadblock filled his plate. "The ones getting back get first choice." Shipwreck explained. "That was pretty good out there Trick Shot." He said.

Dixon shifted. He was suddenly embarrassed by the impossible shot. "It wasn't a trick shot." He tried to say. "I know what I saw." He said. And how pissed Low Light was afterward.

"Bull Shiiiiit!" Shipwreck said. "We saw it. We thought for sure Snake Eyes was a goner. Boy was Scarlet pissed!" He laughed. "Nice shiner you got there Low Light. Enjoy your dinner Trick Shot." He patted his shoulder and walked away.

The rest did too.

Low Light opted to sit by himself where Beachhead and Cover Girl usually sat. They wouldn't be back for three or four days. He was looking forward to some down time. He liked to decompress after coming back from a mission and that usually meant by himself. He knew Psyche Out would want to talk to him sometime but that could wait until tomorrow.

Across the mess hall Firewall and Dixon were talking. He didn't quite know what to say to her any more. He blamed it on being tired. He felt like he could sleep for a week but his brain was still wide awake. It replayed the entire three days over and over again. He only heard half of what Firewall was saying.

"I said, do you like it?" Firewall asked. She was staring at him too intensely. He felt like he was being studied.

"What? Yeah, Roadblock makes good lasagna." Dixon said.

She rolled her eyes. "Are you even listening to me? I didn't ask you about the lasagna dummy. I asked you if you like your new code name." She said. "Trick Shot. It even _sounds _like a sniper."

Dixon set down his fork. He suddenly wasn't as hungry as he was before. He was more tired than anything else.

He sighed.

"It wasn't a trick shot." He said again.

Now he would never live it down.

Now it was his name.

End Chapter Twelve

Pay Your Dues


	13. Chapter 13

For willwrite4fics. A semi challenge featuring Low Light in ten chapters. Each chapter will have the title of a Rolling Stones song.

The usual disclaimer: I don't own, not making a profit.

Chapter Thirteen

Not Fade Away

2000

Trick Shot didn't see Low Light leave. He didn't think anyone else did either. People were oblivious creatures. If it wasn't directly related to them and their small world a lot of things were simply left unnoticed. Unless they paid attention most of it happened right under their noses. It was surprisingly easy to fade into background.

He was beginning to understand why.

Like how the jaguar could pass by so close without being seen.

Across from him Firewall was still talking. "We could see _everything_! It was like Google Maps on steroids! We didn't think Low Light would ever make that shot! You should have seen us! No pressure huh Trick Shot?" She said.

Trick Shot groaned inwardly. He guessed no matter how many times he tried to explain the name was going to stick. He wondered if they would still be calling him that name twenty years from now when he was shooting at paper targets. That's probably how far he would go once General Hawk got Low Light's report. He had no doubt in his mind that it was his first and last mission with the sniper.

He blew his only chance.

"Yeah, well, don't expect it to happen again." Trick Shot said.

"What are you talking about? General Hawk sent you out with Low Light for a reason. He would have never made that shot without you. Honestly I don't know how you did it. I mean three days out in the middle of God awful nowhere with Low Light. You might as well have been talking to yourself. The guy's a dick. I guess if you're the best at what you do you don't have to be friendly but still. It's weird the way he just stands there and stares. I used to think he was on drugs but now it's just creepy." She said.

"He's not so bad once you get to know him." Trick Shot said. He couldn't believe he was defending the man. "That's just the way he is."

And that's what most people said about Low Light: That's just the way he is.

Being out on a mission was his true element. The base was foreign to him. He felt alienated looking from the outside. Trick Shot still remembered the way he smiled when he showed him the jaguar. It was like being shown who he really was. It was only a glimpse but it was enough.

"Well the way he is fucking weird. Better you than me." Firewall said. "What are you doing tonight?" She asked.

"I'm going to take a shower for one." Trick Shot said. "Then I might just hit it."

Firewall snorted. "Wow. Mr. Excitement." She said. "Did Low Light rub off on you or something? Did you catch Low Light cooties? Come on! You have tonight and the weekend off and you're going to _sleep_? You just got back!"

"I haven't made up my mind yet." Trick Shot mumbled. "What are you going to do?" He asked.

"We were going to have some beers and play sudden death C.o.D." She grinned. "You can be our sniper."

It was as close as he was going to get.

By the time it was midnight Firewall had already killed the other team twice and some of her teammates just for the Hell of it. All the other greenshirts were getting mad at her. It wasn't fun to play a game if every time you logged on you were shot at. She was now busy trolling the groups looking for SEALs to humiliate.

"It'll be fun!" She said.

At least three controllers were thrown her way.

Trick Shot was parked in a tree like a drunk with his chin on his chest with a giant AFK sign above his head. He stopped playing hours ago. It just didn't hold his interest like it used to. He opted to watch instead.

They were well past their first suitcase and onto the third and had already exhausted their favorite subject which usually involved sex and killing things. They weren't feeling any pain but that would come later when they woke up.

Eventually the topic turned to 'The Shot'.

"How'd you do it Trick Shot?"

"If I hadn't seen it for my own eyes I wouldn't have believed it."

"Three days on the trail with Low Light. That must have been an exercise in endurance."

"Is it true he never sleeps?"

"Yeah he's like the girl on The Ring. He never sleeps." Someone said.

"I can't believe he almost got Snake Eyes!"

"Nah, he would have caught it in his teeth or something."

"And ate it."

"Then he'd shit it out and throw it back at you just for pissing him off!"

"Man was Scarlet pissed!"

"Hey do you think they're, you know, banging?"

"Oh my God did you just say banging? What are you? Twelve?"

"I'd hit that."

"You'd _get_ hit you mean."

"Maybe he should have. Then we wouldn't have to go to hand to hand training."

There were groans. Besides Beachhead's morning torture the next thing on the greenshirts list of worst things to do was Snake Eyes hand to hand combat training. If was four hours of having the snot kicked out of them followed by lessons on how to best the best punching bag they could be. Through it all the man never said a word. They didn't know if they were doing it right or wrong until afterwards when Snake Eyes would demonstrate proper technique with Scarlet.

It was an awesome sight that left the greenshirts feeling inept and ashamed of themselves.

"So how did you do it Trick Shot? Trick Shot?"

No one saw him leave or paid attention.

Across the Pit Low Light was sitting on the roof. It was Janack's night. She was on duty until seven AM and wasn't due for perimeter checks until midnight. She was doing sweeps of the ground a lot like he would do.

Normally after a mission Low Light would celebrate with two fingers of Jack and a beer back in town. Then he would head to Nebraska and wouldn't be seen until Monday night. Now he was confined to base for the rest of the year.

It was driving him nuts. He wanted a beer so bad he could taste it.

"Welcome back Low Light." Janack said. She was always polite in a held back way that kept them on a professional level. Unless it had to do with work the conversation didn't go any further than that. Low Light suspected she was a lesbian. It didn't bother him. She did her job. If she had a personal life she never talked about it.

Low Light lifted his hand. Now that he was up here he didn't have anything to say. It was more out of habit or to have something to do. He was wide awake after sleeping on the flight and had hours to kill before he went to sleep. By then the sun would be up.

He looked out at the desert sky instead. It was as unchanged as he remembered it. The stars were the same. The desert was the same. Janack was the same. He was the only one that felt changed. It would take a while to get back to normal. He breathed deep.

If Janack was offended by his silence it didn't show. She was used to it by now.

"I have heard about your target. Congratulations." She said. "They are calling it an impossible shot."

She heard him exhale loudly. He still had his back turned. That was the same Low Light. "The kid got lucky." He said. It was the last thing he wanted to talk about. "It was a once in a lifetime shot. It happened once but it won't happen again."

Janack watched him. Low Light appeared calm unless you knew him. It took a trained eye to recognize it. His back was rigid and his hand was too tight on his rifle. It was subtle but it was enough.

"Is that what you are going to say to General Hawk under the review board?" Janack asked.

It was an honest question. Snipers were often reviewed after a mission. Out of all of the soldiers snipers were the ones most scrutinized. It went part and parcel to the Tab. Each target had to be justified and accounted for. It had to be proven as an eminent danger to his teammates or to himself. Their shots could not be explained as crossfire or the heat of battle. Every target was chosen and premeditated before pulling the trigger.

The military couldn't afford the scandal of a random murder made by one of their own.

Janack knew that as much as Low Light did.

Low Light was quiet for a long time before he turned around. The desert could wait until tomorrow. He sighed. "It was my bullet." He said. "It was my finger on the trigger. The spotter doesn't make the final decision. I do. When it comes down to it that's what they're going to ask."

As the sniper and senior Joe Low Light held the ultimate liability. He was the one that had to be accountable. His judgment was the one that mattered.

And he was the one that took the shot.

Trick Shot wouldn't be involved.

He had a lot to learn if he was going to understand that.

Low Light passed him by on the way to the mess hall. It was two AM and time for another cup of coffee. He wouldn't sleep until it was all over. Trick Shot was lost in thought. Low Light was within three feet of him before he looked up. That would have to change. He couldn't have a sniper taken by surprise because he was day dreaming.

"Shouldn't you be in bed or in town?" He said.

His low voice made Trick Shot jump. He still had the Cobra rifle on him. He touched it automatically. That was a good sign at least. It meant he was still on guard. Low Light swept his hand away. He wasn't afraid that he was going to get shot. He was too close.

Trick Shot shrugged. "I couldn't sleep." He said. His breath reeked of alcohol.

Low Light thought. He wasn't his father. He was his teammate. What the kid did on his down time was his business. Trick Shot was a lot younger than him but he was still an adult. He could make his own decisions. And he could make his own mistakes. It was up to him.

They stood uncomfortably in the dark. Trick Shot had his own reasons to be uncomfortable. Low Light just stood silently like he always did.

There was a long pause. "I could say the same thing about you." Trick Shot said.

At one time he would have but the kid didn't need to hear that. "You're off for the next four days. You should take your hazard pay and enjoy yourself. We don't know when the next time will come around." Low Light said. It was the only words he could come up with. . "In the mean time, call your mom, get drunk, find a woman, go to Nebraska, but be here for your shift Monday morning."

Trick Shot stared. Until then he didn't think of it that way. To him he was following orders. That meant following Low Light. He didn't think at any time he was in danger. He supposed that was Low Light's job. He was the one that took the shots. Trick Shot was just along for the ride.

He was beginning to understand.

It was an exceptional risk Low Light took with him. The man wasn't known to take on an apprentice. He didn't know why Low Light chose him. He was starting to learn more and more about what the sniper was like. He found himself apologizing.

He looked down. Low Light's eyes seemed to examine him. No matter where he looked his grey eyes studied him. "I'm sorry about the shot." He whispered. He couldn't think of anything else to say. By the time he looked up Low Light was already gone.

Low Light didn't bother to sleep. He waited. He took the time to clean up and shave. His room smelled like ladies' body wash. It was some strawberry or mango thing Cover Girl always used. He grunted. He didn't care what Beachhead did when he was gone so long as Cover Girl didn't touch his stuff. He just didn't want to know about it.

He started the shower on hot. Across his shoulder and down his left arm was the Roman numeral X covering his flank to his hip bone. It was a mark for each ten kills. In two more he would add another X on his pelvis. He was close to two hundred by now. That was ten kills per year for twenty years.

Snipers were lucky if they had one or two.

Most of them were forgotten but each one was on his skin. The ones he remembered he wished he could forget. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. If he was going to be picked apart then he wanted to look his best. It mattered.

He combed his hair and shined his shoes. He would need a hair cut before Beachhead started calling him 'hippie'. It was hard with curls. Unless it was shaved down they stuck up in weird angles. He wore a hat instead and skipped the goggles. He hoped he didn't look too tired.

Today it was Hawk, Law, Psyche Out, Adams and Dusty.

Adams was there as a peer review and a sniper to analyze his actions. He did the same for her in the past. Most of the time the reviews were status quo and no one argued intent or purpose. The actions explained themselves.

Still it was protocol and it would go on his record.

For as much Hawk went through he looked refreshed and ready. A General had to look the part. Low Light stood in front of the table and waited until he was called. On a file on the table was the report. In it he knew every detail was written down.

The clerk typist sat with her hands ready at the keyboard.

General Hawk started.

"Cooper G. MacBride known as the code name Low Light with the rank of E-6 was sent on the nights of July 22nd, 23rd, and 24th as sniper to the country of Sierra Gordo in the Southern Hemisphere on a mission that will remain unnamed in this report. Is that true soldier?" He began.

It was the standard opening. It stated his name, his rank and his mission.

Low Light nodded until he was reminded by Law that the review was being recorded.

He cleared his throat.

"That is correct, General Hawk." He said.

"And on the night of July 23rd it was your intention and duty to target four Cobra guards with the purpose of establishing a position to ground troops in the area. Is that correct?"

"Yes. It was part of my mission." Low Light said.

Psyche Out started. "It is understood that three of the four targets were decimated. That is not under review. The review seeks to maintain the motives of target four." He said.

Low Light swallowed. That was the trick shot. No matter how he said it, the shot would look impossible. He nodded again. When he spoke again it was the same calm quiet low voice he always gave.

"That is correct, Sir." He said.

Adams spoke up. "Yes but at the time the snipers' teammate was under direct threat. It was a legitimate and correct target. The sniper at the time understood that his teammate was in danger and defended him." She said.

"And how did that make you feel?" Psyche Out said.

Low Light blinked at him.

"Strike that. This is a review board not a therapy session." Law said. "The soldiers' feelings about the target are irrelevant. Leave that to the couch, Psyche Out." He said.

"Agreed." General Hawk said. He waved to the rest of the board. "The review board asks and is given permission to accept the soldiers' verification in his own words. Continue, MacBride." He said.

Low Light paused. He had to choose his words carefully. It would be written down permanently on his file and wouldn't be changed.

"Yes on the night of July 23rd I was sent as sniper to the country of Sierra Gordo on a mission. It was myself and my spotter. The spotter was and is still under orientation and his actions or inaction does not and did not affect my actions." Low Light said.

He didn't call him by name. Trick Shot didn't need to be a part of the permanent record.

He took a deep breath.

"I was on a ridge approximately one and a half miles from the location with an established boundary. The targets one through three were immobilized. The target four was at approximately one and a quarter mile within my field of view." Low Light said.

"It was at that time that I observed my teammate Snake Eyes with the enemy. He appeared to be entangled with the target. That was when I took my shot. It was a hit. The target was exterminated." He said. "It is this soldier's opinion that the target was justified and reasonable." He finished.

"And there were no outside influences concerning your decision?" General Hawk asked.

Low Light shook his head. "No Sir. The shot was my own. It is my responsibility to keep." He said.

The review board looked at each other. It was General Hawk that made the final verdict. "In that case all of those in favor of reasonable and prudent justification repeat by saying 'aye'." He said.

There were four other agreements before the typist stopped and filed the results.

"The board has reviewed the file and found Cooper G. MacBride justified in the shooting of target four on the night of July 23rd in the country of Sierra Gordo." Law said. "You are dismissed."

Low Light exhaled. He knew the board would review the case in his favor but there was still the nerve wracking explanation he had to do. He stood with his hands behind his back in a relaxed at ease position.

That was when General Hawk came up to him. "Walk with me Cooper." He said. Like a father Low Light knew it was important when the General called him by his given name. He nodded and followed him out.

General Hawk stopped at his office and motioned Low Light forward. Once there he sat behind his desk. He waved at Low Light to take a seat and looked at him. He had his fingers in a steeple under his chin. He seemed to be thinking about what he was going to say next. Whatever it was didn't look like it would come easy.

"I saw what you did out there Cooper." Hawk said. "Now that it's over I want your honest assessment. It is strictly off the record. How did Dixon perform?"

Low Light shifted. Trick Shot was anything but still new to the Tab. His assignment was within normal limits. His stealth was nonexistent. But his eyes were the best he had seen in a long time. He had the possibility to be better than Low Light. With new technology and accuracy Trick Shot would be able to hit a target at three miles. It was twice as far as Low Light could hit when he was trained. Back then he still used the single bolt action sniping rifle.

He told General Hawk so.

"No one could have made that shot except for you of course." Hawk said. He stopped and looked. "His C.O. says he's a prodigy." He said.

He slapped down Trick Shots file in front of him. On the first page was the soldier looking serious with his dress uniform on and his sniper Tab on his collar. Beneath his name was his qualifications and experience. The rest was a dozen pages giving the reasons why Dixon should be a part of the Joe team. In it was Beachhead's, Snake Eyes, Duke, and Low Light's report.

Low Light nodded. "He's good. He has the potential to be the best." He said.

"Good." Hawk said. "The last prodigy we had was twenty years ago with this skinny little toe head from North Dakota. Whatever happened to him?"

Low Light half grinned.

He shook his head.

"I haven't seen him in years." He said.

The End

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Sincerely, KSLycke


End file.
